Bossy Boilers- Turning The Tables
by Wahtiff
Summary: Emily's downward spiral, from the sisterly engine that Thomas had met at Knapford to the big bossy buffers she currently was, has left all of the other engines dismayed- so much so that a few have given up hope that she'll change. During a passenger run, however, Toby convinces Thomas that there is one last method he could try to start bringing the old Emily back...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: The Plan**

Even Thomas couldn't help but laugh.

He just HAD to laugh.

He had to LAUGH at Emily joking about how bossy she had been to him. He COULDN'T tell her off or explain to her how irritated he felt when she did so.

Thomas didn't hate Emily, not in a single sense of the word. On the contrary, he had really come to love the Scottish Stirling as a sister. Sure, their friendship had gotten off to a rocky start, but it had grown in the first several months that they had known each other. Whenever they had spent time together then, Emily had really loved to spend time with him and Percy, chatting it up. In those days, she had seemed more like a fellow tank engine than the small tender engine that she was- and the two tank engines had loved her for it, accepting her and forming a trio of best friendship.

But now that friendship was strained, and the worst part was that Thomas and Percy didn't know why. All they knew was that, almost right before their eyes, the engine they viewed as a sister had become...distant. Distant and bossy.

Thomas had been the first one to experience it, when Emily had bossed him about days before a large snowfall hit the Island of Sodor. She had scolded him for going too fast, which had only irritated him, but then she had made him angry when she had scolded him for simply taking a moment to talk to some children- so angry that he swore not to listen to her anymore. Everyone knew the rest of the story: Sir Topham Hatt had told Emily to pass his message along and inform Thomas to wear his snowplough, Thomas ignored her believing she was only bossing him about, and had learned the hard way- getting stuck in the snow and having to be rescued by Emily- that she had only been trying to pass along his controller's message.

He had been grateful to hear her own up, to accidentally leaving out the fact that it was Sir Topham Hatt's idea, and he had been relieved to see her shed her bossy attitude in exchange for her real, sisterly self.

"Thank you for owning up." He had told her, as the workmen fitted his snowplough, "You're a good friend."

"That's alright." She had said, sweetly, "You're a good friend, too." Then she had smirked, "But next time, just do as I say."

He had laughed.

He just HAD to laugh.

No rebukes, just laughter.

In all honesty, he thought that she was just joking.

But then the storm had happened, and he had witnessed her being bossy to both his other friends and the workmen on her way to Farmer McColl's. Not only that, bossiness turned to being mean: Molly was made fun of on her first day, Toby and Percy crashed because Emily had wanted to be a queen, he and Percy were told that they might as well not show up for an important inspection, she hadn't welcomed him in her shed at Knapford, she had ruined his milk delivery, and so many other events. Not even being given a spot on the Steam Team seemed to help.

Gone was Emily the Stirling Engine, replaced by Emily the Bossy Boiler.

All around Thomas, Percy and several others tried to be patient, hold out hope. But Thomas knew that, maybe if he hadn't laughed, maybe they wouldn't have to wait. He tried to put on a smile every time he and Emily passed one another on his branch line, but inside he frowned. Aside from moments like that, she never talked to him and Percy anymore- Emily was practically a stranger, a mere coworker, around them.

And Thomas hated it.

….

A familiar whistle snapped Thomas from his usual musings, and he looked up. Seeing Emily up ahead, in a siding near a water tower, he sighed and rolled his eyes, _Here we go again._

"Thomas, how many times do I have to say it? Slow down!" Emily scolded, frowning as he approached, "You know you're bumping your passengers."

"I know, Emily." He said as he passed by, keeping his eyes forward, "I was just-"

"There's no excuses for a poor job done." She interrupted with an annoyed huff, "All it takes is one passenger to give Sir Topham Hatt a rude remark," She rolled her eyes, "and our whole railway will get closed down!"

Thomas said nothing, but of course, Emily smiled with approval as he passed by, thinking he had gotten HER message while she hadn't gotten HIS.

Once he was around the bend, and out of sight, he let out a sad sigh, mumbling, "What happened to you, Emily…?"

Of course, he knew it was pointless to ask. Others have tried, he knew, but Emily always avoided the question.

Behind him, Annie spoke, "You shouldn't listen to her, Thomas. You know we will warn you if you're going to fast."

"I know, but Emily doesn't care, Annie." Thomas responded.

His tone of voice was quick to let the coaches know that he was in no mood for conversation.

A few minutes of silent puffing later, Thomas soon saw the next station come into sight and got ready to apply his brakes, like clockwork. However, looking at the other platform, his eyes brightened when he saw Toby with Henrietta. Finally coming to a stop, Thomas smiled at the steam tram.

"Hi, Toby." Thomas said, trying to be cheerful and forget about Emily for a moment, "What are you doing here?"

"There's not too much work to do around the quarry today, so Sir Topham Hatt asked me to help take any extra passengers you might have."

"Annie and Clarabel ARE overloaded today..." Thomas considered, "Are you going the same way?"

"Sure am!" Toby grinned, "Was hoping to catch up for a bit with you, anyway. It's been a while."

"You're not wrong." Thomas laughed. In all honesty, he felt that he needed a bit of cheerful company.

In minutes, their passengers were ready and the guard blew his whistle. Being a steam tram, Toby's casual pace was a bit slower so Thomas slowed himself down a bit to keep even with him as they talked.

"How's Mavis?" Thomas asked, "I heard you and her are still together."

"It's a bit strange, being in love with a diesel," Toby sighed, "but I wouldn't trade her for anything. I mean, you know very well that she's almost like a steam tram herself."

Thomas hummed in thought, "What HAS it been like these past three months, being with her most of the time?"

"A lot really hasn't changed, to be honest: She STILL likes to challenge me to shunting contests during work, and let me tell you, it's currently a split down the middle as to who's the overall winner." Toby laughed, "She and I are still like best friends in every way, but if one thing's changed, I've started getting a better night's sleep."

"A better night's sleep?" Thomas snorted, "You two are in love, and the only thing you can do is SLEEP?"

"I can if she sneaks down my branch line in the middle of the night, visiting and staying with me in my shed, buffer to buffer." Toby smiled to himself at the memory, "OR if I stay with her at the quarry and just...know she's there next to me."

"Ah, I see."

"Speaking of sleep, though." Toby suddenly looked at Thomas, "You don't look so chipper, yourself. What's up, Thomas?"

Thomas frowned, "It's...nothing."

"Thomas," Toby deadpanned, "we've been friends for, what? Ten or so years? Percy and I both know when you're lying."

"Okay, then I won't lie you." Thomas surrendered, "Are you sure you want to hear it?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You might get...what is it called?" Thomas found the term, "You might get a Vietnam flashback."

"Are you calling me old?" Toby scowled.

Thomas looked at his friend's wooden frame, "Well…"

"Out with it!"

Thomas raised an eyebrow, challenging him, "It's Emily."

Just as Thomas had warned him, Toby's face scrunched up with a flashback- a painful Queen Emily flashback. As expected, there was only one thing he could say,

"Oh."

"Yeah…" Thomas sighed.

"What happened this time?" Toby asked, "Bossing you about again?"

Thomas nodded, "I was bumping my passengers again, apparently."

"I have to say, I've been a member of several railways," Toby closed his eyes, "but even I have to admit that I've never seen anything like it before. It's a shame really: Emily's a beautiful engine, and she's got so much potential. She's also really good with children, and Sir Topham Hatt lets her take them to school often. But when it comes to engines, she's…" He sighed.

"She's a lost cause, isn't she?" Thomas said.

Toby was silent for a moment, "I know that Duck thinks so, and he refuses to speak to her at all. Mavis always argues with him when he visits the quarry and it comes up. She was always the optimist." He glanced at the tank engine, "What about a lot of you guys?"

"Percy's holding out hope, but Edward's stopped speaking to her like Duck has." Thomas informed, "I don't know about Henry, Gordon, and James. I just know that Harvey doesn't like encountering her either, but he practically lives by a hippocratic oath as a crane engine." He looked down, "I feel like I've lost hope, myself."

"Have you even tried to do anything?" Toby asked.

"No, but I know others have. Trying to be nice, socializing, doing EVERYTHING they can think of. I even know Molly and Rosie have tried to befriend her, you know they're forgiving engines, but she won't have any of it."

Toby said nothing.

"It's on my mind all the time, the question." Thomas rolled his eyes, "Where did she go, the Emily I met? She won't say anything, and I just. Don't. Know." He sighed, "I'm sorry, Toby, we're supposed to be catching up, and I'm just blabbering about a lost cause."

"Maybe it's not." Toby suddenly said.

"Huh?" Thomas raised an eyebrow, "What do you me-?"

All at once, Toby suddenly stopped dead in his tracks- literally.

"Toby, what are you doing?" Thomas fearfully stopped next to him, "The passengers will be furious!"

"Just follow my lead." Toby winked.

True to Thomas's fears, the windows on Henrietta, Annie and Clarabel all opened and the passengers peaked their heads out. It was the middle of the summer season, so most of the people riding were tourists. Despite the beauty of Sodor, however, many of them look irritated that they stopped.

"What's going on here?" One man, an American judging by his accent, asked.

"Why did we stop?" A woman questioned in an Irish accent.

"It's hard to enjoy Sodor on the move." Toby answered, gesturing with his eyes at the lovely meadow they were currently in, with lush green trees dotting the landscape and birds and butterflies everywhere, "So my friend and I figured that you ladies and gentlemen would like the chance to stretch your legs and take better pictures."

To Thomas's shock, it was as if Toby was a wizard using magic: All at once, most if not all faces turned from irritated to considering, and then finally to intrigue as the doors on their coaches opened and many tourists got out. Several children cheered, running out to frolic among the flowers while their parents stood and sat on the hill to watch them. Other passengers grouped together with cameras, and one man- an artist, Thomas guessed- even pulled out a sketchbook.

"Fifteen minutes, everyone." Toby called, then looked at Thomas, "And now we can talk."

"We were talking before, weren't we?" Thomas was confused.

"But now you can focus on what I'm saying, fully and without excuse, so listen up." Toby grinned, "Thomas, I don't believe in lost causes."

"What do you mean?"

"Before you give up all hope on Emily, I have an idea for how you could try to deal with her bossy buffers."

"You do?" For the first time, something involving Emily made Thomas's eyes brighten.

"It's up to you to come up with the details, but what if...Okay, you said that you, Molly, Percy, and Rosie tried to just be nice and get closer to her, right?" Toby asked, "But it didn't work?"

Thomas nodded.

"What if, instead of being nice," Toby looked around, "you turned the tables on her."

"Turned the tables?" Thomas frowned, but then his eyes widened, "Y-you mean...be bossy to HER?"

"By being nice, you're submitting to her too easily, and she's rolling right over you." Toby reasoned, "By being bossy, however, you'll be using reverse psychology. She won't see it coming!"

"Toby, that's…" Thomas was unsure, "I don't know. I...I can't be bossy to anyone. I'm cheeky, sometimes, but that's just to joke around. I can't actually, SERIOUSLY boss someone around like she does. Besides, even if I do that, she'll catch on eventually, she'll adapt-"

"She's not bossy CONSTANTLY, either." Toby pointed out, "And neither will you: be bossy, be nice, be bossy, be bossy, be nice be nice, use a random pattern."

"I don't want to make things worse…"

"Would you prefer things as they are now?" Toby raised an eyebrow, "Let me tell you this: When I told Mavis I loved her, she flat-out rejected me the first time, and she wanted me to KNOW she wasn't interested- several times, she even slept in a siding instead of the shed. She was practically hostile with me for so long, as if confessing to her had made her my enemy. No matter what I did- doing her work for her, complimenting her, even helping her out once when she crashed- she pretty much let out friendship be run into the ground."

"What did you do?"

"I turned the tables. I stopped doing nice things for her, I stopped speaking to her, I pretty much showed her, 'Okay, fine, our friendship's over.' At first, nothing happened and I felt worse than ever, but eventually she took notice and then SHE was the one to try and talk to ME." Toby sighed, "I kept giving her space, letting her have what she wanted. Eventually, though, she had had enough, especially since Bill and Ben are the only other engines who live there with her on a regular basis: She started sleeping in the shed with me again, trying desperately to make conversation and she eventually began to constantly ask me if I needed help on MY work."

He smiled at Thomas, "Maybe it was cruel, but I let her see my perspective, let her know how much I truly valued her friendship and how I felt when she did the same thing to me. Eventually, after about a month, things were back to normal. It was still another week before I admitted what I was doing," He chuckled, "In hindsight, her biffing me into the shed's buffers and then kissing me wasn't the norm, but it was as a good a way as any to start a relationship."

Thomas burst out laughing, "It COULDN'T have worked, just like that. That was...wow, Toby, just...wow…"

"I know." Toby laughed, "It's hard to believe, but it worked, and it can work for you with Emily- in a sibling sort of way."

Thomas considered it with a frown, "It'll be risky, but...I guess it's worth one last try to get through to her." He groaned, "I really should've told her off during that snowplough incident."

"Don't blame yourself, Thomas." Toby sighed, "It might not have helped anyway."

"It might've made things just a BIT easier…" Thomas glanced at him, "Okay...so...turning the tables, huh? Where should I start?"

As Toby considered it, the fifteen-minute mark passed and the passengers began to climb into the coaches again. The engines had already set off down the line once more before Toby grinned.

"Perhaps tomorrow," His grin turned Thomas-level cheeky, "you should start with something small…"

….

They finished the rest of the passenger run with no problems, and arrived only a few minutes late at Knapford. Sure enough, Sir Topham Hatt was there and waiting to berate the two, only to confronted by the tourists who claimed that they enjoyed the unexpected stop, as it allowed them to truly enjoy a bit of Sodor's countryside. In the end, the dumbfounded controller had no reason to punish or scold them, and both Toby and Thomas burst out laughing once they were a safe enough distance away from the platform.

After that, Toby and Thomas finalized a few last details of their plan before the steam tram parted ways with his friend, having more jobs to do around the island. Toby returned Henrietta to the coach shed on his branch line, then went about doing various other jobs such as hauling a milk delivery for Farmer McColl.

He was just getting over Gordon's Hill when he saw Emily coming up the other side, pulling a line of freight cars.

 _Might as well…_ He thought, then rang his bell, "Hello, Emily."

"Hello, Toby." Emily whistled as she came closer, "What are you doing?"

"I'm just pulling this milk to the dairy."

"Those cars are full!" Emily seemed horried, "What are you doing, Toby! You have to go faster and hurry up, or else it will spoil!"

 _Aaand there goes the nice Emily._ Toby rolled his eyes, "I've done this for a long time, Emily, don't worry. I've never let the milk spoil."

"Maybe they should get a faster engine for once, just to be safe. You're just like Thomas." Emily rolled her eyes, rushing past, "There's always a first time!"

And just like that, she was gone.

Toby sighed, used to such remarks but disappointed that it was Emily saying it, _If I didn't know any better, I could've sworn that was GORDON talking…_

As he had said, Toby delivered the milk on time and without any problems. For the rest of the day, he was able to go about his other jobs- delivering chickens to the docks, helping Edward shunt cars at Wellsworth, and even serving as Henry's back engine for a freight train of logs- and each one took awhile to finish. By the time he was finally done, he was worn out and the sky was orange and red from the sunset.

However, he smiled when he "realized" that he just so happened to be quite a distance away from his shed- and he knew he didn't feel like travelling long distances at night. Therefore, he decided to puff to the quarry instead. When he arrived, the workmen were mostly gone and the machinery was silent, the only real sound being Bill and Ben snoring away in their shed. Toby just rolled his eyes, and instead puffed further into the quarry to where another shed stood alone.

Inside was the beautiful black-and-yellow diesel that he loved so much, fast asleep. With a cheeky grin, Toby puffed up and pressed his buffers against hers, leaning forward and softly kissing her.

Mavis woke up with a jolt, rolling back a bit in a defensive manner. However, when she saw it was Toby, her face flushed with embarrassment, "S-sorry...Toby."

"It's alright." Toby rolled inside her shed, "So...is this spot taken?"

"You know it's yours." Mavis buffered back up to him and sighed with content, nuzzling him, "You didn't want to go back to your shed?"

"You know I'd never miss a chance to spend the night here with you." Toby returned her nuzzle.

"I know, and I'm grateful." She chuckled, "Bill and Ben argue too much to really be fun in a shunting challenge, and today just wore me out."

"Incredible: One day I'm a fusspot to you, and the next-" Toby laughed at her glare, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"Yeah, uh-huh, sure." She rolled her eyes, but then kissed him anyway, "So...anything interesting happen today?"

Toby thought of the passenger run, and chuckled, "Nothing much. Just catching up with Thomas…"

 **And here we go! This isn't the first fanfiction I've ever written for TTTE, but it's definitely the first I've ever published. Anyway, I'd like to thank AaronCottrell97 for inspiring me to get back into this fandom- in fact, it was the story "Thomas and Emily's Relationship" that inspired this work.**

 **Anyway, since I get quick and easy writer's block, I'm gonna try and ask you guys for help: How should Thomas begin turning the tables on Emily? Remember, it has to be something small to start off with.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Table #1- On Time, More or Less**

" _Something small, huh?" Thomas considered it, "Like what?"_

" _Well…" Toby's eyes brightened, "I heard she scolded you for taking the time to talk to some children once, said you would be late."_

" _Yeah," Thomas answered, his face grim as he remembered, "and I told her I was never late."_

" _Use that same situation on her, but take it one step further: She scolded you for taking the RISK of being late, but when the time is right," Toby grinned, "scold for actually BEING late."_

" _How am I going to do that?" Thomas raised an eyebrow, "Emily's never late on a normal day, and as far as I know, there's nothing coming up for any of us that would disrupt her schedule."_

" _Thomas, you're supposed to be acting like a bossy boiler too." Toby deadpanned, "Leave your compassion and understanding in the shed-"_

…...

"-ESPECIALLY your understanding of 'give or take a few seconds...'" Thomas murmured, reciting Toby's words as he puffed along his branch line.

All around him, it was a similar story to yesterday: the sky was blue with puffy and white clouds dotted through it, the sun was shining brightly overhead, and though Toby was not travelling next to him, the tank engine could clearly hear the laughter and friendly chatter of his passengers behind him in the coaches. Annie and Clarabel were mostly silent, trying to enjoy the day themselves, but Thomas knew that it wouldn't be long before the peace and quiet would come to an end for the three of them.

 _Either Emily comes by or we reach the next station._ He thought, closing his eyes in thought, _I wonder which will come first. Eh, probably Emily._

Sure enough, a melodic whistle sounded from up ahead and Thomas opened his eyes to see Emily coming around the bend with her own coaches in tow. He answered her whistle, but said nothing as they came closer to passing by one another.

Emily smiled, apparently pleased, "Now THAT'S more like it."

"More like what?" Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You're going slower, is what, and from the sounds of things," She paused, listening, "your passengers seem thankful for it too."

Knowing that it wouldn't help to correct her and say that his passengers were that cheerful EVERY DAY, Thomas merely shrugged, "I suppose you're right."

"Finally admitting it, I see?" She laughed as she finally passed him by, "I told you so!"

"Did you?" Thomas asked, uninterested.

"I'm very particular with my words, Thomas." She beamed with pride, "That's why you really should listen to me more."

Not able to wait for a response, not that she would even if she had the time, Emily disappeared around the bend behind Thomas. Once she was gone, Annie let out a sigh of her own from behind Thomas, "So...you let her walk over you again."

"I know."

"When are you going to put Toby's idea into action?" Clarabel asked, impatiently, "Actually, ARE you going to put it into action?"

"Of course I am! Ladies, please," Thomas scolded, "it's all about the timing, remember? We're still both in the middle of our midday passenger runs."

"Oh. Right." The coaches responded, apologetically.

"Besides, while you two are experts with telling James and then myself off for being late or going to fast, I'VE never done this before." Thomas grimaced, "I'm cheeky, not flat-out bossy."

"What's the difference?" Clarabel asked, unamused.

"Cheeky is playing tricks and showing off just for fun. Being bossy...well…" Thomas glanced back at his cab and looked at his crew, both men having been respectfully silent, "How would you guys describe it?"

"I'd say being bossy is more malign. When you call Gordon a lazybones, everyone knows you do it just to get him angry." His fireman suggested.

"If Emily did it, though," His driver added, "it would be more deliberate, as if she's purposefully making herself look better than him. She would do it in a way that is meant to put someone down, make them look foolish." He grimaced, "Shame them."

"Oooohhh…." The coaches realized. After a pause, Annie cautiously asked, "Are...WE like that, Thomas?"

"Not really." Thomas glanced back at her, his face grim, "Especially not to an EMILY magnitude."

…..

Because she had come to really enjoy the route during the summer, Emily tended to take her afternoon and early-evening tourist trains through Black Loch. Every engine on Sodor knew how much she loved it, especially whenever she got to briefly stop so her passengers could take picture and marvel at her seal friends. Then, afterwards, she would take her passengers onto the latter half of the branch line before returning to Knapford.

It was scenic.

It was a long journey.

It was perfect for Thomas's first table to turn.

Once his morning run with Emily was over with, Thomas had to go to the docks to help Salty and Porter with shunting outgoing shipments. Before he put Annie and Clarabel away, though, his driver and fireman quickly sought out Sir Topham Hatt who was overlooking the activity on the station platform.

"Yes, Thomas?" The controller said, coming over to him, "Your crew said that you wanted to speak with me?"

"If I may, sir, I would like to have some time away from the sheds this evening." The tank engine asked, "Could I possibly have an evening run scheduled along the branch line?"

"I'm actually not sure…" The controller scratched his chin, thinking, "These days, after Emily's last run is over, most of the tourists return to town-"

"What if you, say, advertised seeing Sodor's countryside during the nighttime?" Thomas suggested, hopefully, "You and I both know how beautiful it can be after sunset, and therapeutic as well. Remember that one time, when a mother with three children once came up to you, and commended how it helped calm them enough to sleep that night?"

"I DO remember that, yes…" Sir Topham Hatt agreed, smiling at the memory, "Alright then, I'll announce it the passengers after Emily returns from her second run and before your second. What time would you like to be off?"

Thomas took a deep breath, praying as he answered, "Seven o'clock, sharp."

"Seven?" Sir Topham Hatt blinked, "Thomas, if you're hoping for a full night run, shouldn't you wait for Emily to return at seven-thirty with the majority of the tourists?"

"She seems to be the expert on being right on time." Thomas said, cheekily, "Surely she can adapt, can't she?"

Behind him, Annie and Clarabel snickered.

Sir Topham Hatt, unaware of what Thomas was REALLY up to, could only sigh, "I'll take it up with her, but either way, be ready to go at six-fifty-five. Rosie will have Annie and Clarabel shunted into place for you by then. Is that fair?"

"Very fair, sir. Thank you."

With that, Thomas had left Knapford and gone about the rest of his day. He worked with Salty and Porter at Brendam for a few hours, but at one point during shunting, they were all told to stop when the harbormaster discovered a mistake in his manifest. Edward's driver had been called at Wellsworth, and he apologized for the mistake in shunting, requesting another engine to come and pick up the correct train. Having other places to later be unlike his dockside-centered companions, Thomas had volunteered and left Brendam with the goods train in tow.

On his way along the main line, he suddenly found himself neck-and-neck with Mavis who was coming from the quarry with a load of slate.

"Oh." Mavis blinked, "Well...this is unexpected. It's been awhile, Thomas."

"I'll say." Thomas laughed, "How're things, Mavis?"

"Let's see...Toby was working with me today-"

"Perfect ten." Thomas chuckled.

"-and Bill decided to be a show-off, nearly breaking his funnel underneath the hopper-"

"How-?" Thomas rolled his eyes, decided not to question how a quarry engine with a very short funnel could possibly risk breaking it, "Okay then, that's MINUS two points."

"-AND Ben wasn't looking where he was going, so Fergus had to come and help me pull him out of a gravel pit."

"Fergus was involved, and he hates being involved with those two, so minus four." Thomas sighed, "So... on a scale of one to ten-"

"-it's been a nice, even FOUR." Mavis finished in a deadpan.

"Well, you know what they say," Thomas quoted, "'not every oasis has fresh water.'"

Mavis raised an eyebrow, "Okay, you DEFINITELY made that one up."

"Either way, at least your day was a four." Thomas told her, "So far, mine's been a three, mainly with Emily and...what I'm about to do this evening."

"Speaking of which," Mavis looked him over, "Toby told me about...what you're planning."

"He did?" Thomas was surprised. He hadn't expected-

 _Actually, check that, she probably would've found out anyway...somehow…_ It was honestly why Toby's story from the previous day had been somewhat unbelievable: In Thomas and Percy's experience, Mavis could read most engines like a well-thumbed book.

"Yes, he did last night, but...Look, Thomas, we've been friends for awhile." She looked concerned, "Are you sure you can see yourself doing it? Because I can't. I mean, when Toby did it with me, HE had difficulties because...well…" She looked away, "you know how he feels about me. It had to have been torture…"

"It's uncharted territory for me, too. But, well," Thomas smiled, sheepishly, "curiosity hasn't ALWAYS killed the cat, has it?"

Mavis hummed in agreement, "Look, just...promise me something, alright?"

"What's that?"

Mavis looked him in the eye, "You and Emily are still a lot alike, and I don't want to deal with TWO bossy boilers, not after what happened at the castle with Toby and Percy. Just please, whatever you do, DON'T lose yourself."

"I won't, Mavis," Thomas vowed, "you have my word. Besides, tonight I'm going to start with something small."

"Is everything ready?"

"Mhm."

Mavis looked ahead, and saw the junction coming up where they would part ways, and then looked at him again one last time, "I'll be rooting for you, then."

…..

When it came to most of the people of Sodor, things were very people-centered. Even if a doctor or a businessman had somewhere they needed to be, they would not hesitate to stop and talk for a minute on the street with someone they knew, regardless of whether they ended up running late. It wasn't very practical, but that was just the island's culture. Unfortunately, the engines did not have that same luxury too often, especially if they ran passenger trains, but that didn't mean there weren't exceptions to be made. Even Gordon could admit that, despite losing a chance of beating his record, he would wait at the platform if told there were more passengers coming rather than cause people to miss an easy ride to their destination.

Normally, Thomas was no different, especially in the summer when the tourists had no particular place they needed to be during the day. It allowed for just a bit of cheeky slacking off, chatting with Percy or James for a bit before Sir Topham Hatt finally put his foot down.

That afternoon, however, Thomas was unusually time-centered and eager to get his night run started: He delivered the correct train from Wellsworth to Brendam Docks at two, and then went for a quick, five-minute washdown at a nearby water tower before immediately puffing to Knapford for his second standard run of the day. At the station, around four-thirty, he arrived just in time to hear Sir Topham Hatt's announcement of the night run, and then the resulting crowd of tourists looking to buy extra tickets to ride Thomas's train when promised a lovely view of nighttime Sodor.

Emily had, of course, looked surprised with no small amount of worry on her face. Thomas knew she was doing the math in her smokebox, and he saw her worry increase as Sir Topham Hatt came up to her, sharing a whispered conversation with the Stirling.

 _I need a way to verbally trap her…_ Thomas held his breath, praying for a miracle, and got it when Emily finally looked over at him, looking a bit annoyed with his chosen start time, "Why seven, Thomas? My third run will be at least three hours."

"Seven is not too early so that it isn't night, but not too late that no one will want to ride." Thomas informed her, matter-of-factly. _Be nice, use logic- for now._

"Surely you can adjust yourself a bit this time, Emily." Sir Topham Hatt reasoned, "Thomas said that you have a certain ability to cope with this sort of change in schedule."

For the first time in a long while, Thomas watched as a look of strong worry cross Emily's face. However, after a second, she gulped and said, "Yes, sir, I'll...I can do it."

 _Not an 'I'll try' or 'I'll do my best', either. Just one-hundred-percent absolute: a signed death-warrant._ As the whistle blew and Thomas headed off, he knew with that thought in mind that all the pieces were now in place. Of course, it wasn't a thought he was particularly happy to be having, but he knew it was necessary, _It's too late to back out, anyway._

Two runs later- much shorter than Emily's at only an hour each- He steamed into the yards just as the clock was striking six.

Heading to the coach shed, he found a surprised Rosie just backing up to Annie and Clarabel, "Thomas?"

"That's me!" He whistled, cheerfully.

Rosie looked him up and down, "You're...a bit early, aren't you?"

"Better early than late." He shrugged.

"'Better early than-?'" Rosie blinked, "Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah, I'm fine." Thomas answered, "Why?"

"...Actually," Rosie said, carefully, "nevermind. Do you still want me to get these two into place for you, or…?"

"Go ahead. You're the station pilot." Thomas said, reversing away, "Be careful with them, though."

"Um, excuse me?" Rosie scowled, "I'm ALWAYS careful with your coaches."

"Really?" Thomas grinned, "Okay, just making sure." He started off, then stop, "Make sure not to bump them too hard. They don't like that."

"I know." Rosie grumbled. As much as she liked him, especially trying to be like him, Thomas had long ago found out that Rosie was also surprisingly easy to irritate on her end, just like he was. As a result, Thomas sometimes liked to pull no punches with teasing her, trying to make her mad.

Thomas slowly backed up a few more feet, "Are you-?"

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"Really s-?"

"Thomas, I'm tired and I want to go to my shed after I'm done here, so I swear, if you don't leave right now and let me do my job..." Rosie glared at him,

"Okay, okay, sorry!" Thomas sighed, dramatically,"I'm going."

"Thank you."

A few more feet, and then he grinned widely, "Actually, what if I stayed? What would yo-?"

"JUST GO WAIT AT THE PLATFORM, YOU NUMBER ONE BOILERACHE!" The snapping sound of her last nerve breaking practically audible, the female tank engine screeched with anger and Thomas puffed quickly away from her, laughing loudly. He knew that he was probably going to get it from her later for that one, but he figured it was worth it.

 _Best to have just a bit of fun, before…_ Thomas sighed, doing as

Luckily, Rosie was quick to forgive and get back to work, and at six-twenty carefully shunted Annie and Clarabel so that they were perfectly alongside the far platform, on the opposite side where Emily's passengers would disembark her coaches. She then whistled, signalling to Thomas. He backed himself up to Annie, coupled to them, and them let out a whoosh of steam as he settled in to wait for Emily.

And wait a little more. As time passed, several passengers arrived and boarded the coaches, but Thomas knew that the main mass of them were still with Emily. However, as expected, twenty minutes later there was still no sign of the Stirling, but that didn't mean Emily wasn't trying to get there.

For a moment, Thomas fearfully wondered if Emily would actually make it, _If she does, this was all a waste of time..._

The stationmaster suddenly walked up, holding his pocket watch, "The signalman at Black Loch just called. Emily was delayed by a broken signal. She's coming, but she might be here a bit late."

 _I don't know why You're helping me with this,_ Thomas prayed, looking up, _but thank you!_

"Seven o'clock." Thomas said, gruffly (and grimacing at how unlike him it sounded), "That's when I'm leaving."

"Are you sure?" The stationmaster looked surprised, "You didn't really give her much of a window to squeeze through."

"She's supposed to get here at six-fifty-five, and I leave at seven." Thomas answered, matter-of-factly, "Ten minutes, and based on where she is, that sounds like plenty of time for her to get here to me."

"She's not going to make it." The stationmaster insisted.

"If she doesn't," Thomas paused, taking a deep breath before speaking, "then it's her own fault."

The stationmaster stared at him, a bit shocked at this sudden change of attitude from the tank engine, but after a long moment he looked at his watch, "Two more minutes before her arrival deadline." He looked out at the tracks behind Thomas, "There's still no sign of her."

The two minutes passed.

Then five more.

Three more went by. In the distance, Thomas heard the telltale whistle as the Stirling came closer, but he still couldn't see her.

Another minutes passed. Far behind him, Thomas heard the sound of Emily's cranking coupling rod turning as she approached the station.

 _Thirty seconds,_ Thomas counted down, _and...twenty seconds…_

"Th...Thomas!" He heard Emily pant, tiredly, "I'm here!"

Too late. Just as Emily was steaming into the station, the clock struck seven and the guard blew the whistle at Thomas's silent urging, and he immediately began to move forward to leave the station.

"Thomas, wait!" Emily cried out, "Come back!"

"Sorry, Emily, but you're late." Thomas called back, not stopping, "I said seven, sharp."

"It was only by a few seconds!"

"Still late."

"But Thomas-!"

"No 'buts', Emily. Goodbye!"

"Think of the passengers, though!" To Thomas's surprise, Emily's tone sounded desperate, "I heard them talking, and they were really looking forward to this run! Please, come back!"

With a outward show of reluctance, Thomas stopped, "Fine."

He reversed back into the station. On the platform, the shocked passengers smiled with relief and many thanked Thomas for changing his mind as they boarded Annie and Clarabel, ready to see the nighttime scenery. Thomas acknowledged them, but otherwise kept his eyes straight ahead and sat with an impatient expression. On the opposite side of the platform, Emily was panting slightly and Thomas could see a bit of sweat roll down the side of her smokebox, signs that she had indeed tried as hard as she could to get the passengers there.

 _Leave compassion and understanding in the shed…_ Though he actually felt sorry for putting her through that, he knew he couldn't show it, not if he wanted the plan to work.

"Th...thank you, Thomas." She breathed, smiling thankfully at him.

Thomas huffed, looking at her, irritated, "It's about time you got here."

Emily's smile fell, "I was delayed, Thomas, I'm sorry-"

"No excuses, Emily. You said it yourself: One complaint, and the whole railway gets shut down." Thomas glared at her, "One would think you'd follow your own advice."

"Accidents can happen, though!" Emily protested, "Besides, they would've easily complained about you leaving them behind!"

"Maybe, maybe not, but they DEFINITELY would've complained if you arrived late and caused them to miss out on this run." Thomas scolded, "If you couldn't get here in time, why didn't you say so?"

"Wha-? Bu-?" Emily sputtered, her eyes widening in shock, "B-but I did say so, before! You heard me talking to Sir Topham Hatt!"

"I heard you say you could do it," Thomas retorted, "not 'sorry, Thomas, but I simply cannot get here by seven' or even an 'I'll try, but no promises.'"

"That's what I meant!"

"Really?" Then came the final blow: He raised an eyebrow, "I thought you were very particular with your words?"

Stunned by her own sentences being used against her, Emily's mouth opened and closed several times, the Stirling unable to find a response to that. If he was honest, Thomas figured that if the first time he had ever seen the female engine so utterly speechless.

The guard blew his whistle again, and Thomas set off once more, this time with all of his passengers for the evening. He didn't look back, but as he left, he could feel Emily's eyes on him, following him until he was around the bend.

As soon as he was away, however, Thomas's expression fell into one of worry, _Was...was that really me? It must not have been...No, it COULDN'T have been…_

Annie and Clarabel, however, finally couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing.

"Oh my goodness," Clarabel wheezed, "she looked like a fish out of water! Her face…!"

"So that's what getting a taste of your own medicine looks like..." Annie cleared her throat, "A fine job, indeed, Thomas."

"I didn't like it." Thomas admitted, glumly.

"But you did it, and quite effectively, if I do say so myself." Clarabel assured him, "And using her own words against her, too, her 'particular words-'"

"-was GENIUS!" Annie finished.

"I hope it was worth it." Thomas said, warily, "In fact, I'm hoping it was enough." He shivered, "I...that was NOT me talking back there…"

"Thomas," Annie said, firmly, "I want you to listen carefully: Just so long as you remember who you are, and keep that at the forefront of your mind even during moments like that, you'll be fine. After all, our mission is to get Emily to confess why she had become the engine she is, and possibly bring the old her back. Being nice isn't working, so being mean and bossy is our only option left to try. Keep that in mind, and you won't lose yourself."

"Besides," Clarabel added, "it's not like you're being mean to her all the time, just on and off and at the exact right moments."

"Is any of it worth much if I do things like this to her, though?" Thomas asked, spotting a junction that would lead to his branch line, "This was starting SMALL, too, and even that was more than I thought I could bear being mean to another engine. What will happen as we gradually move up the ladder?"

The coaches were silent for a long moment, but Annie finally spoke, "We won't know until we try, and you're right: Hopefully, it will only take this once for Emily to get the message. But if it isn't...just know you're not alone in this. We're with you-"

"-and so are Toby and Mavis." Clarabel finished.

 _Toby and Mavis…_ At the thought of his friends, Thomas made a decision, "Will you two be fine in the shed tomorrow?"

"You're cancelling your runs?" Annie blinked.

"I need to talk to Toby and Mavis, so I'm going to ask Sir Topham Hatt if I can work at the quarry tomorrow." Thomas explained, "If this WASN'T enough, though I pray it was, then I need an idea from them for round two."

"That's a good idea, actually." Clarabel said, thoughtfully, "In that case, yes, we'll be fine."

"For now, though, our objective is complete and we are on a lovely night run." Annie said, "Let's celebrate this victory by enjoying it to the fullest."

"Agreed." Her sister seconded.

Thomas smiled, looking for the first time up at the clear, moonlit sky and around them at the darkened woods, alive with nocturnal creatures, "Well...it IS a good night for it…"

 _But please, Emily,_ He thought, _PLEASE get the message. I really don't want to do that again..._

 _..._

 **And it is finally complete, though a bit of a heads-up for y'all:**

 **With finals coming up, I might not be able to write the third chapter right away, so bear with me. But on a positive note, I tried to make this a small, yet effective, blow**

 **blow to Emily- as much as I possibly could think of. A big thanks to the guest reader who suggested the idea. To be fair, though, if you guys have any**

 **feedback, it is much appreciated as I still think I made Thomas a bit too heated here for just phase**

 **one of the plan. That's for you guys to decide, though. Anyway,**

 **chapter three will be a prepping chapter of sorts that starts off with Mavis, Toby, and Thomas forming phase two of the plan. But the question is:**

 **What IS phase two? Also, and this is just my opinion, I honestly might not have Thomas setting everything up alone on this next one...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: The S.R. Is In**

After his run was over, and the delighted passengers were finished thanking him for the trip, Thomas went to put Annie and Clarabel back in the coach shed before heading off towards home. With the combination of the late hour, and the fact that he was still a bit beaten up over how he had spoken to Emily earlier, the tank engine suddenly felt more tired than usual and he knew that he needed all the sleep he could get.

Unfortunately for him, however, the night would not leave him without one last event.

He was just nearing the edge of the yard when he suddenly heard movement coming from behind a line of freight cars next to him, the sound of wheels on rails as an engine moved on the other side. At first, Thomas shrugged it off, thinking that he wasn't the only engine who was working late, but all too quickly he noticed that the sound was travelling parallel to him.

Thomas paused.

The other engine stopped.

Thomas moved forward a few feet.

The engine moved as well.

Realizing he was being watched and followed, Thomas narrowed his eyes and spoke up, "Who's there?"

Suddenly, between the gaps in the freight cars, he saw a brief flash of pink.

 _Oh no._ His eyes widening, Thomas immediately leaped forward and tried to make a run for it-

 _BAM!_

-only for Rosie to appear directly in front of him, just before he could escape further down the line. Thomas slammed on his brakes, both tank engines grunting as they collided into one another. Thankfully, though, neither were hurt and at worst suffered only a painful jolt to their front buffers.

"Geez, Rosie," Thomas winced, backing away, "if Gordon was speeding out of control down the main line, is THAT how you would try to stop him?"

"No, if it was Gordon, I'd leave it for him to deal with by himself. I'M not getting in his way." Rosie answered, backing away and glaring at him, "But right now, he's not the issue. YOU are."

"Me?" Thomas raised an eyebrow, "Look, Rosie, I know the jokes at the shed were a bit much for you tonight, but-"

"No, you steam-for-brains, not THAT!" She hissed, "I'm talking about that display with Emily. What the HECK was all THAT about?"

"I don't think I know what you mean, Rosie." Thomas said, though inside, he was very- VERY- nervous.

In all of his effort to plan that night out, and turn that first table on the Stirling, he had forgotten a simple, but very vital, detail: other engines who witnessed the incident. Where everyone else he knew was concerned, Thomas knew that the plan could be reported to Sir Topham Hatt and buried in an early grave before he could even blink.

 _Or worse: the plan could be reported to EMILY, and THEN reported to Sir Topham Hatt..._ That was a combination that Thomas didn't even want to think about.

"Oh no, I think you do." She said, moving closer in a threatening manner and forcing Thomas to back away, "Don't play dumb with me, Thomas. I HEARD you, what you sad."

"Uh…" Thomas's eyes shifted around, trying to think of an excuse, "You heard wrong?"

Rosie stared at him, her glare making its way like a knife to his soul.

"It wasn't what you think?" Thomas tried again.

Rosie raised an eyebrow.

"..." Unable to think of anything else, Thomas merely gave her a sheepish smile.

Rosie raised both eyebrows.

"Ugh, okay!" Defeated, Thomas closed his eyes and groaned, "That was...the entire reason for my run tonight?"

"Wait, what?" Her anger fading, Rosie now looked confused and not a little bit disappointed in him, "The whole reason you scheduled your run? You asked Sir Topham Hatt if you could do a night run-?"

"- all so that I could wait for Emily to undoubtedly show up a few seconds late." Thomas finished, "That's right."

"Okay...In that case, allow me to ask you another question." She suddenly buffered to him, her glare hitting him at point-blank range now, "WHY?"

"W-why?" Thomas gulped.

"WHY would you WANT Emily to show up a few seconds late, so you could berate her and be a complete and utter JERK to her!?" Rosie seemed in disbelief, "What the heck, Thomas? That...I can't...WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?"

Thomas had officially had enough, and he roughly shoved Rosie away from him, "Do you think I liked it, Rosie? Do you think I wanted to do it? Well, I didn't!"

Rosie was appalled, "What are you even saying? You didn't like it...and yet you did it anyway?"

"Yes!"

"...That's NOTHING like you, Thomas! What kind of logic is that?" Rosie snapped, "You're usually the nicest engine that a lot of us know. You don't have a mean piece of metal in your boiler, and yet...you are a complete jerk to Emily-"

"-because I had to be." Thomas interrupted.

.

"That makes no sense!"

"It would if you knew her for as long as I have!" Thomas retorted, angrily.

Rosie's eyes widened, and she blinked, "Huh?"

"Look, Rosie, I'm tired and I feel bad for what I did tonight, so if you're just here to berate me for what I was doing," Thomas glared at her, "you're wasting your time, because I honestly don't really care anymore what you have to say."

Rosie opened her mouth, stubbornly.

"HOWEVER," Thomas stopped her, "I...I MIGHT tell you, provided you calm down and let me explain myself."

"Okay, okay, fine." With a groan, she closed her eyes took a few deep breaths, centering and calming herself. Opening her eyes, she gazed at Thomas with a look of curiosity, "Okay, I'm calm. No more confrontation, no more yelling, I'm COOL. Now tell me, Thomas: Why were you so mean to Emily, tonight?"

"First off, Rosie, I need you to answer me something?" Thomas looked her up and down, "What is Emily like, in your opinion?"

"She's…" Rosie paused, as if realizing something, "She's...I actually don't know. She seems nice at times, but...she's always complaining that I bump her coaches too hard. She eventually just told me not to bother, and said she would get them herself from now on. I also remember what Molly told me about her first day on Sodor, and when Emily teased her for pulling those freight cars…" She sighed, "Actually, I have a pretty mixed opinion about her, but even that's kinda...bad. I can't say for certain, though, because I haven't really talked to her much."

"Well, for yours and Molly's information, she wasn't always like that. In fact…" Thomas briefly told her about Emily's old personality, when the Stirling had first come to Sodor- the time when she had berated him and Percy for teasing Salty was the centerpiece of his explanation.

By the end of it, Rosie's eyes widened, "Wow...that...wow."

"Surprised?"

"Yeah, because...wow," Rosie blinked, "that is NOT the Emily I've seen and heard about. Are you sure…?"

"Ask Percy. He knew her like that, too. I'm not kidding," Thomas sighed, "Emily actually WAS a nice and sweet engine, like a sister to us. But now...you know."

"But that still doesn't explain why you-"

"I know, and I'm getting to that now. You see, yesterday I met with Toby for a shared passenger run…"

Before they had parted ways, Toby had been the one to warn Thomas about telling other engines of their plan, particularly how they might react in a way that would most likely end with Thomas being punished- very few engines liked a bully, after all.. Therefore, as Thomas explained his plan to Rosie in detail, he observed the particular reaction he got from his fellow tank engine. As expected, by the time he was finished, she looked completely unsure of what she was hearing.

He looked at her, "I don't expect you to understand, so you don't have to act like you do, but I am starting to really think that the Emily I became friends with can be brought back, and if this is the only way to do it, then…" He looked away, "so be it. I honestly hope tonight was enough, but if it wasn't…"

"So...you're just going to keep doing this until she caves?" Rosie asked.

Thomas nodded.

"You're right," Rosie backed up, allowing him to come forward until they reached the opening to the siding she had appeared out of, "I guess I couldn't understand, since the Emily I know is the one we have now."

"I just want you to know, though, Rosie," Thomas assured her. Now that she knew of the plan, it was vital- VITAL- that he try to keep things on the down-low, "I'm keeping the bullying on Emily. I'm still me, and I'm not going to become a second bossy boiler to everyone."

"...What's stopping me from telling Emily about what you're doing?"

Thomas's eyes widened, "You wouldn't."

"Try me. I don't like bullies, Thomas, even if one of their victims is someone I don't particularly like." Rosie answered, "But tell me: You were willing to tell me all about this plan of yours, so what exactly do you have planned in case the wrong engine found out?"

"I...nothing, except maybe find a way to convince them not to say anything. I didn't even expect to have any witnesses for this first one." Thomas meekly responded, looking away, "I just said I was gonna keep the bullying on Emily, I even promised Mavis earlier today, so I'm not about to hurt or threaten you to keep quiet."

"So nothing's stopping me from telling Emily?"

"No...not a thing."

Rosie narrowed her eyes, "What's stopping me from taking this straight to Sir Topham Hatt and having him put a stop to all this?"

Thomas sighed again, defeated, "Nothing."

"How about all of Sodor?"

"Zip, zilch, nada." Thomas again answered with honesty, "It all depends on you, what you want to do."

Rosie considered it, and then made her decision, "Okay then. In that case…"

Thomas held his breath.

She nodded, "I'll keep it a secret."

"Wait…" Thomas looked up, surprised, "really?"

"Mhm." She answered.

With a sense of relief, Thomas smiled brightly, "Wow, I...Thank you, Rosie. I-I honestly wasn't expecting you to say th-"

"I'm in."

His smile fell, "Wait...WHAT!?"

…...

While the morning was peaceful at most other places on Sodor, the quarry was on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. Having spent the night with Mavis again, Toby awoke to the usual loud sounds of running machinery, some workmen shouting to be heard above the noise, and the rest of the workmen yelling at Bill and Ben for their usual early-morning tricks. Always the optimist, however, the steam tram was quick to point out to his lover that it was at least a SUNNY, noisy morning with not a raincloud to be seen.

His optimism earned him an eyeroll, but he knew that Mavis was at least a little bit motivated by his words, deep down.

Probably.

Together, the two of them prepared trains of slate and china clay to be taken to the docks. They worked quickly for several hours, from five to nine, knowing that with enough effort, they would be done and able to have a short break by breakfast-time. Life in the quarry was strenuous, and Toby knew that Mavis always wanted at least one or two lasting kisses, just enough affection from him to hold her over until the afternoon when they would get a longer break in the shed- and therefore, more privacy.

When breakfast rolled around, however, the sound of a familiar double-whistle echoed throughout their part of the quarry, and the two looked up just in time to see Thomas entering the quarry.

Next to him, Mavis raised an eyebrow, "Strange. Was Thomas scheduled to work here with us today?"

"Not that I'm aware of." He answered. Either way, he rang his bell to greet Thomas, and upon seeing them the tank engine smiled and started towards them.

Then, to their surprise, Thomas suddenly stopped and looked behind him with a bitter and impatient expression. After a moment, an equally-familiar pink engine appeared around the bend and stopped next to him.

"And he's here with Rosie, too?" Toby felt a smile creep onto his lips, "Interesting combination…"

Toby and Mavis watched from afar, patiently, as Thomas and Rosie seemed to bicker for a short period over something. Then, finally, with one tank engine wearing the expression of defeat while the other wore an expression of excitement, the four engines finally met in the middle of the quarry.

Thomas cleared his throat, and smiled, "Toby. Mavis. How are you two, today?"

"Oh, we're fine, but," Toby glanced at Rosie, then back at Thomas, "you seem like you're not with good company right now."

"I'm not." Thomas deadpanned.

"Hey!" Rosie hissed, indignant, "I'm GREAT company!"

"Translated: You're a pain in my smokebox." Thomas mumbled.

"Now, now, BEFORE this goes any further than I think any of us would like it to, particularly me," Mavis interrupted, "what exactly brings you two here? I don't remember the work being so difficult today that we needed two other engines…."

"Well...uh...You see, Mavis, there's been…" Thomas finally sighed, "If you guys have the time, can we talk in private somewhere? There are… CERTAIN things we need to talk about."

"Ah…" Toby nodded in understanding, "Okay, in that case, Rosie and Mavis can-"

"No, Toby." Thomas glared at Rosie, who only shrugged, "There's certain things WE need to talk to you guys about."

Toby blinked, confused.

"She knows." Thomas sighed.

On a normal day, Thomas would've considered the steam tram's frozen expression funny...

…..

Once they were all comfortable- yet UNCOMFORTABLE- together inside Mavis's shed, the diesel spoke up, "I guess I'm a bit slow, so...what's this about?"

"You know what it's about, Mavis." Thomas answered, pointedly, "You know, about E-M-I-L-Y?"

"Oh. I was afraid you'd say that." She sighed, remembering their conversation from the previous day.

Then her eyes widened, and she looked at Rosie, "Oh…."

"Yep." Thomas nodded in agreement.

Toby just glared at Thomas, questioningly.

"I had no choice." Thomas answered, meekly, "And before you ask: No, I don't know if any other engines saw it, nor was I confronted by Emily afterwards at Tidmouth. Rosie convinced me to sleep in her shed last night..."

"Hey, it kept you from possibly being confronted by both me and her on the same evening." Rosie pointed out, "Or the entire rest of the Steam Team, if she decided to mention your behavior to the rest of them."

"Actually," Toby considered it, "that's a good point. Of course, if Rosie was truly the only real witness, AND if she agreed to keep it a secret-"

"Which I have." Rosie interrupted.

"-then I don't think we have to worry about the rest of the Steam Team becoming too suspicious. After all, you're know as one of the nicest engines on Sodor, while Emily is...not so much, so it would be her word against yours."

"Well...maybe it's good for the first time, just to test it out a bit, but it's not like you were going to be subtle about it going forward, anyway." Mavis pointed out, "Rosie, or any engine, was probably going to see you treating Emily like that and ask what was going on with you. Even if not last night, then eventually..."

"Speaking of last night…" Rosie looked at Thomas, "Tell them."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot." Toby chuckled, eager to take his mind off of the issue concerning her for awhile, "Yeah, how DID that go, actually? Did you do it? Did it work?"

"Really, Toby?" Mavis asked, unamused.

"Look, Mavis, we talked about this, remember?" Toby pointed out.

"Fair enough."

Thomas hesitated, "It went fine, Emily was late as planned, and I-"

"-was a complete and utter jerk to her for just being a second past the start time." Rosie finished. Upon seeing three annoyed expressions sent her way, she defended, "What? It's true. I can attest to it, can't I?"

"Rosie, it's not that I don't like you," Toby said, "and I don't mean offense, but now that I think about it: What ARE you doing here, anyway? You agreed to keep things quiet, you really don't have to be here to listen to us discuss this."

"Yes," Thomas said, VERY quietly, "she does."

"Huh?" Toby and Mavis glanced at him.

Thomas spoke slowly, with a wary glance at Rosie, "The reason Rosie has to be here is because….she agreed not to take this to Sir Topham Hatt or tell anyone we don't want to know about this plan, but…"

"But?"

Thomas inhaled, then carefully exhaled the words, "She only agreed to do it...for a price."

"Price? What pri-?" Toby glared at Thomas, "You didn't."

"Again," Thomas said, meekly, "I had no choice."

"Thomas was telling me about what Emily used to be like, and to be honest, after I had a second to think about it," Rosie spoke up, "I decided that… I want to see that Emily for myself. So...I'm in."

"Rosie," Mavis asked, cautiously, "what do you mean 'you're in?'"

"You guys are going to keep stepping it up from here, right? Beyond simply arriving late at the station?" Rosie explained, "It sounds like a big process, and it seems to me like you guys could use some more help with this, so..."

She grinned, "I'm going to turn the tables on Emily, too!"

"What!? No, no, nonono," Toby wheeshed, angrily, "that is NOT happening!"

"Too bad, it wasn't your call." Rosie retorted, looking at Thomas with a smug grin, "It was Thomas's, and he already agrees with me."

"Correction: I had no choice EXCEPT agree with you." The blue engine deadpanned.

"Liar! You were clearly thinking it over!"

"Okay, enough!" Toby groaned, "Look, Thomas, it's one thing to deal with engines who witness this, because I won't deny that Rosie was only the first. It's harder to get them to keep a secret if they find out our plan, but the more engines that are actually INVOLVED," He gave his friend a very serious expression, "the higher the chances are of Emily finding out. If that happens, this plan of turning the tables is dead in the water, and we might not get another idea to bring the real her back."

"I don't really like this plan, period, but I have to agree that it DOES seem like our only option." Mavis nodded, looking at Thomas, "Why would you risk that? You could've, I don't know, let Rosie turn you in to Sir Topham Hatt for just an unusual episode of bullying."

"Because...Rosie's right: I DID think about what it would be like to have her in on it, last night, and I will admit that she IS pretty trustworthy, as annoying as she is," Thomas reasoned as the said female engine stuck her tongue out at him, "She's also right about the fact that we could use a bit more help, Toby. It took me awhile, and a lot of luck, to pull off that stunt last night. From here, we can't rely on luck. We need to properly plan out our strategies, and the more help we have, the easier it might be." He looked away, "It also might lead to quick, less-painful results. The longer we go with this, the more long-term pain we're bringing both Emily and ourselves."

"True…" Toby reluctantly agreed.

Mavis, on the other hand, was not as convinced, "Rosie, you're even more chipper than THOMAS is, and on top of that you don't even KNOW the Emily we're trying to bring back. There is no way you can pull off being mean to anyone, and even Thomas had to force himself. His chance was little, and yours is an absolute zero." She looked at the pink engine, warily, "I don't like the idea of you possibly becoming like Emily, either. Even less than Thomas, actually."

"Who said I actually had to be the bully all the time?" Rosie reasoned, "I might put in a few words, here and there, but Thomas is our primary agent."

"It's too late to change her mind, Mavis. She's in, she's actually RIGHT, and that's that." Thomas groaned, "Unfortunately."

"It's settled, alright." Rosie agreed, "Now then...about phase two…"

"You are WAY too happy about this..." Mavis sighed.

"Phase two, huh?" Toby paused, "Well, what makes you think there needs to be a phase two at all? Maybe we won't need Rosie's help at all, and we can avoid any other risks."

"I want a phase two, just in case." Thomas grimaced, "Where Emily is concerned, it helps to be prepared."

"Fair enough." Toby sighed, then looked to the pink engine, "Okay...Rosie, first off, since you're so INSISTENT on being a part of this, you're expected to contribute. Is that clear?"

"Roger that!"

"Fine, then...I suppose it's best that you have a say in coming up with our next strategy. Do you have any ideas on what we could do to Emily next?" Toby asked, "Step one was humiliating her for being late, using her own talk of punctuality against her, so step two should be at least equal to that in terms of severity."

"I've been thinking about it since last night, and based on what I know of Emily," Rosie smiled, "I do have one idea. It'll be a complex setup, but it might work."

"What is it?" Thomas asked. Though he still had his own reservations of Rosie being in on their plan, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of ingenuity she could offer- she WAS known to be a smart engine, after all.

Rosie grinned, VERY cheekily, "Well, being a station pilot, I tend to overhear a lot of the larger engines' banter as I prep their coaches, and I MIGHT'VE been overhearing some of Gordon and James' lately..."

…..

"This," Thomas mumbled as he and Rosie steamed into the shunting yards at Knapford, "is NOT going to work."

"It WILL. Trust me." Rosie assured.

"We're just gonna end up getting into trouble with Sir Topham Hatt."

"You're gonna get into trouble, regardless."

"Yeah, me and not you." He grumbled.

"Thomas, just TRUST me on this, will you?" She then stopped and looked off into the distance. With her gaze, she pointed out a familiar workman with a green coat to Thomas, "Okay, there's the yard manager. You see him?"

Thomas nodded, eyeing the man, "Yep."

"Okay, then step one is a go. Get ready." Without another word, Rosie went ahead and Thomas watched as she slowed to a stop next to the manager.

Quickly noticing her, he came forward and greeted her with a tip of his cap, "Good morning, Rosie. Is there something you need?"

"Um, actually, sir," Rosie said, innocently, "Sir Topham Hatt said you had a job for me."

"I did?" The manager scratched his chin, "No, he must've been mistaken. I didn't ask for any extra help around these yards today…"

"Huh?" Rosie blinked, confused, "That's strange. He was very specific when I saw him this morning."

"He still can make mistakes, though." He pointed out, "There really isn't anything for you to help out with, today."

"Hmm…" The pink engine pretended to think, "Can you please check? Perhaps I misheard him."

The manager nodded, climbing into her cab, "He's at Wellsworth right now, but let's head over to my office and I'll give him a call."

"Thank you, sir." With that, Rosie puffed away with the manager on board, leaving Thomas to make his move.

 _Step one: Distract the yard manager and get him out of the yards for a minute._ Thomas ran the steps of their phase two plan in his smokebox as he slowly reversed, _Step two: freight cars_

It wasn't going to be hard to get freight cars, of course. With the yard manager gone, Thomas pretended to be working as he went into multiple sidings and proceeded to grab several random cars from the trains that had been shunted the previous day. The other workmen in the yard wouldn't easily notice the extremely mixed-up train he was forming with other engines' workloads. From one siding, he grabbed coal cars that were meant for Henry, and from another, he helped himself to a car of heavy stone bricks that was meant for James to take later that afternoon, and so on. Being already organized, the tank engine was able to work quite fast.

In the span of roughly three minutes, Thomas had a train of six freight cars ready.

Cars of the heaviest materials- coal, slate, bricks, and even a car of scrap metal- that he could find.

"Quite a mixed train." His driver said, cautiously, "It really stands out."

"Let's get this over with, then," His fireman nodded, "before Rosie comes back or the other workmen take notice of our 'borrowing' and check the manifests."

"Agreed." Steaming quickly up to the front, Thomas backed up to the train, and with one final look around, began to pull it out of the yards. To his relief, no engines arrived and no workmen stopped to ask about the cars, and soon Thomas was away from the main shunting yards.

Not a minute later, he heard Rosie's whistle as she returned to the area, _Just in time. Looks like she's done her part perfectly._

He frowned, _Now it's all on me. Great…._

So far, their little setup operation was working, but that didn't make Thomas feel very good. In fact, he knew that in the event that Emily DID change after the previous night, doing what he was about to would be a waste of time- and the start of a lot of unnecessary hot water with the yard's workmen.

 _But then again,_ He thought, _it's better to be safe than sorry in this kind of war, and that means taking risks in preparing for another battle._

All too soon, he saw that he was arriving at his destination- or rather, the scene of his upcoming crime: Up ahead, at the end of a long stretch of tracks, was Knapford Sheds.

About two thirds of the way to it, however, was its turntable, used for both coaches and engines alike.

It was facing perpendicular to Thomas.

 _Jackpot!_

"Thomas." His driver spoke up as they stopped, "We didn't ask last night, but this time is going to be MUCH more noticeable and cause MUCH more confusion and delay. Are you SURE you're ready to do this?"

Thomas took a deep breath, and then let it out, "Yes. For Emily. The REAL Emily."

His driver nodded, then turned to the fireman, "You ready?"

"It's not like I need to rehearse." His fireman laughed, "We've done this for real in the past. Plenty of times, in fact."

"Is that an insult or a compliment?" Thomas asked.

"Both."

The tank engine snickered, but his smile was brief.

With another deep breath, Thomas left the train behind and puffed over to the turntable, making sure that there were no witnesses as he stopped before it. His driver got out and spun him to the line adjacent to the cars, then turned it so that it was perfectly perpendicular to the cars' line once more. Thomas then reversed back, switching line until he was behind the train. Coupling himself to it, Thomas pulled the train out of sight of the coach shed between the buildings.

 _Okay, NOW,_ He breathed, _we need the witnesses._

A moment later, he got his wish as he once again heard Rosie's whistle. Over the tops of the cars, he saw her steam into the yards with the yard manager still on board. Even though he couldn't hear what they were saying, it really appeared as though Rosie was arguing with him- and completely uninvolved with what Thomas was doing.

 _Now,_ He exhaled, _for the runaway train. Now!_

Blasting his whistle like crazy, Thomas buffed the train and started to run forward at full throttle, screaming, "Aaaaahhhh! Help!"

"What the-!?" As Thomas sped into the yards, the yard manager spun around from Rosie, looking on with wide eyes.

"I can't stop!" Thomas cried as- on cue- His driver and fireman jumped clear, "Help!"

"He's heading for the sh-!" The manager yelled, and then he looked again, realizing, "Oh no, no, no, not there!"

Rosie gasped, "Thomas, look out for the-!"

 _CR-CR-CRASH!_

One by one, with Thomas (subtlety) forcing them, the freight cars met nothing but empty air as they fell on top of one another, and into the turntable's well. With their loads so heavy- and damaging- the coal car in front was crushed to nothing but splinters by the bricks behind it, and every last piece of freight car and freight flooded the well-

"Ahhh-!" _BAM!_

 _-_ and Thomas joined them, serving as the cherry on top of a sundae of disaster.

He winced, feeling the crumbling and groaning wreckage beneath his wheels as he lay stranded in the well, _I think I know how Oliver felt, now..._

"Thomas, what have you done!? What-!?" Unable to believe his eyes, the yard manager ran up and stood looking with complete disbelief at what was before him. However, he shook his head of the anger and irritation that rose up, and instead looked at Thomas, "What in the blazes just happened, Thomas? Are you alright?"

"Not really." Thomas groaned, and it was completely honest.

Rosie, too, was now honestly concerned, though her words were rehearsed, "What happened, Thomas?"

"I...I…" Thomas pretended to be ashamed.

"Wait a second," The yard manager looked into the well, surveying the damage, "those cars were shunted yesterday- and they're from different trains." He looked at Thomas, now with irritation, "What sort of cheekiness were you up to THIS TIME, you blue menace?"

Thomas looked away, "It was just a bit of fun, sir. I only planned to cause a BIT of confusion and delay, is all. Just a few freight cars to hide and have them seek," He glanced back at his wheels, "but then my brakes seemed to fail."

"Well, Mister Number One, NOW you've caused a LOT of confusion!" The manager berated in frustration, "Now I need to make sure that there are replacement cars for those trains to fulfill the orders placed, and on top of that, you've damaged the turntable! Now Rosie will have to work double-time this afternoon just to get Emily's and Edward's trains ready, because they won't be able to get to their coaches themselves." He pointed at the nearby coach shed, "Tender engines NEED this so that they can turn around and couple to their coaches once they're out."

"Thanks a lot, Thomas!" Rosie grumbled.

"Wait, so you guys turn from asking me if I'm alright to scolding me?" Thomas asked, "That doesn't seem fair."

Walking up and brushing themselves off, his driver and fireman faux-glared at him while the manager answered, "And cheekiness is fair and honorable? Let this be a lesson to you, Thomas: Cheekiness doesn't pay on this railway, it will only get you into trouble." He paused, quickly observing the scene, "Anyway, this mess fills up the well enough that we might not need a break-down train, so do you feel alright enough to let Rosie pull you out of there?"

"I think so." Thomas said, sadly.

"I guess there IS help we need after all, Rosie." The manager turned to her, "Get in position, and I'll call my crew for a chain."

Rosie nodded, somberly, "Yes, sir."

When the man turned his back, however, she looked at Thomas and winked.

…...

It didn't take long for Rosie to pull Thomas out of the turntable well, and once he was out, Harvey arrived and began to help clear the mess. Because Thomas needed to keep with the guise of having bad brakes, his steam was shut off completely and Rosie took him to the Steamworks.

On the main line, she looked back as she pulled him, and smiled, "Nice work."

"You really think so?" He asked, "Because I don't FEEL too nice right now. Those cars really scratched at my wheels and axles when I was on top of them. Also, what are we going to do when Victor's team finds there was nothing wrong with me to begin with?"

Rosie was tempted to tease him and say that there was something wrong with him MENTALLY, so of course Victor wouldn't find anything, but she decided against it. If she was honest, she was actually concerned for him and worried about how much that part of their setup might've hurt him. Nothing was really worth a long trip to the Steamworks, not even pretending to be a bully.

"It's your brakes, your crew can vouch for you, and there were no other witnesses." She assured, "At most, they'll just scold you for being cheeky again and give you fresh brakes. Think of it as sort of a reward."

"And when Sir Topham Hatt arrives with a lecture on hand?"

"THEN you can wallow in your misery. But think about it," She grinned, "your part's largely over with. From now on, I take it from here."

"Remind me, Rosie: HOW is getting me sent to the Steamworks and damaging the turntable going to help us bring Emily back?" Thomas asked, "You never really told us. You only mentioned-"

"Don't worry, Thomas. Even if you've forgotten," Rosie answered as they arrived at the Steamworks, "it'll all be crystal-clear tomorrow, because if this works like I'm thinking it will, word will spread FAST."

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that…" Thomas murmured, and after that their conversation died down for the rest of the trip.

Victor and Kevin met them, as usual, and Thomas was led carefully into the Steamworks to have his "bad brakes" checked and replaced. As they placed him in a hoist and lifted his wheels to the eye level of the workmen, he nodded to Rosie to get going and she obliged. Steaming away, Rosie returned to the main line and immediately began making a bee-line for Tidmouth Sheds. With the work she would soon need to put in to clear the turntable, she knew didn't have much time to finish putting the last pieces of the puzzle in place.

Arriving in record time, Rosie quickly stopped and composed herself before she pulling up alongside. As she expected, the other six members of the Steam Team were there in their berths- and all of them looked slightly miffed if not annoyed.

She grinned, "Hey, guys!"

"Oh! Hello, Rosie!" Percy greeted, brightening up and looking over with a smile, "What brings you here?"

"Nothing much, just passing through, but…" She frowned, "What are you all doing here? Shouldn't you be out working?"

James huffed, "Yes, we should, but Sir Topham Hatt sent word to the stationmaster at Knapford-"

"-AND the yard manager at Wellsworth-" Edward added.

"-and so on, and had us all gather back here." Emily huffed, annoyed, "Really! He scolds us so often for being late or making mistakes, and now he's calling us while we're working and trying to be really useful. If our trains run late, he'd better not complain."

"Agreed." Gordon scowled.

"Okay, you guys, I'm sure he won't keep us THAT long," Henry reasoned with the Stirling and express engine, "But the question is definitely that: Why ARE we being called here? Sir Topham Hatt usually only does this sort of thing when there's been a serious accident."

"Oh, wait...I…" Rosie looked away, downtrodden, "I think I know. Didn't you guys hear about Thomas?"

"Thomas?" Answering simultaneously, six pairs of wide eyes immediately became very interested in Rosie.

"So that's a no, then?" Rosie raised an eyebrow.

"Quite right." Gordon looked VERY unamused, "What in the BLAZES did that tank engine do this time?"

"Is he okay?" Edward asked, concerned.

Rosie recounted everything that had occurred at Knapford Sheds.

As expected, the reaction was very mixed.

"Oh dear," Percy said, gulping at the thought of his best friend in that situation, "I hope he's alright. Bad brakes are a nightmare."

"It serves him right, I say." James grunted, "He tried to play a prank on us, and karma paid him a serious visit."

"I don't believe in karma. He was being cheeky again, yes," Edward said, glaring at James, "but his pranks are usually harmless. It's not anything to deserve pain. We usually end up laughing later, anyway."

"He's no danger on the rails, I've learned." Henry agreed.

"Well, whatever his motives were, one thing's for certain and that is the turntable being damaged with his failed stunt." Gordon looked to Rosie, "I take it you're going to help with the cleanup soon? How bad do you think it is?"

Rosie gave a hopeful smile, "Not too bad, I don't think. I'm sure the work crew have already told Sir Topham Hatt. Maybe that's why he called you all back- to know when the turntable will be fixed."

"I don't need the turntable, though, so why me?" Percy asked, confused.

"Well, thanks to none other than himself, Thomas will be trapped in the Steamworks for the rest of the day," James looked at the green engine, "so he'll need someone to pull his coaches for him. He still has a late afternoon run scheduled."

"Ah…" Percy nodded, "yeah, I forgot."

"Well, it's not like there's anyone else he likes pulling them." Emily said, a hint of bitterness in her voice. Her eyes, however, were distant as she seemed to think of something, "What's so special about those two, anyway? Can't he share?"

Everyone seemed a bit bewildered by her words, even the usually-standoffish James and Gordon.

"Well...um…" Henry shifted a bit, "He never mentioned anything- when you accidentally took them, I mean?"

"No."

Before it could get awkward, Edward cleared his throat, "I can't say for certain, but I think it has more to do with Annie and Clarabel not WANTING to be shared. Does that sound about right, James?"

"Yes." The red engine nodded, "Back when they were mine, I...was rough with them, and being a station pilot, Thomas was more gentle with them than I ever was. They trust him, and don't like other engines pulling them because they don't want to be treated roughly."

"I can see why that is for you, Mr. Needed-A-Bootla-" Percy grinned.

"Don't. Even. Speak of it!" James growled, while Gordon and Henry tried not to laugh.

"I was pretty gentle with them, though…" The Stirling answered.

"Eh, it's...complicated. Annie and Clarabel have always been, well, odd coaches at times." Edward assured her.

"Hmm…" Emily didn't seem fully convinced of Edward's explanation. In fact, it seemed to Rosie that the Stirling had hardly even heard the response she got to begin with.

Then, with a whoosh of steam, Emily suddenly rolled out of her berth and onto the turntable.

"Where are you going, Emily?" Percy blinked, "Sir Topham Hatt told us to wait here for him."

"Bother waiting." She said, "I just remembered that I…had something to do, and it needs to be done before this afternoon."

"And WHAT might that be?" Gordon asked, suspicious.

"That's none of your business, Gordon." Emily responded, her voice neutral. When the turntable stopped on the central set of tracks going away from the shed, she rolled off the table and started puffing away, "Just tell Sir Topham Hatt I was delayed."

"Again?" James asked, nervously, "What about what happened last nig-?"

"Shut up, James!" To the now-OBVIOUS surprise of everyone- Rosie included- Emily screamed that response with a low growl in her voice as she disappeared around the bend.

"But I...I was just asking because I didn't want Sir Topham Hatt to put her in a worse mood." James said, blinking with surprise, "Saying she was delayed AGAIN might not be a good enough excuse…"

"You don't need to explain, James." Edward blinked, "I...think you were fine."

"What was THAT all about?" Rosie asked, curious.

"I wish we could say," Henry explained, "but we can't. Emily came home in a really bad mood last night, but she wouldn't tell us exactly why. I mean, we saw her in passing and knew she had been delayed in getting the passengers to Knapford in time for Thomas's night run, but whenever we ask about it, try and lift her spirits…"

"She just gets angry and tells us to leave her alone." Percy said, looking out where the Stirling had disappeared, "I mean, I know she values being on time, but to get so angry about a short delay seems unlike her."

"Thomas would probably know," James shrugged, "but he obviously wanted to avoid her bad mood as well, because he sure wasn't here last night and now he's trapped in the Steamworks for the rest of the day. Actually, come to think of it, I wouldn't be surprised if he damaged the turntable on purpose just to get a ticket there."

"I can't blame him." Gordon huffed, "Cheeky as He is, I wouldn't wish that girl's temper on anybody. Her attitude is… simply horrid."

"Now THERE," Edward sighed, "we have an agreement."

…...

Based on what Thomas had told her of the real Emily, as well as what she knew of the Stirling herself, Rosie knew that she would most likely go to the Steamworks to visit Thomas. At first, she felt a little bad for subjecting Thomas to the last he was expecting or wanting- talking with Emily after the previous evening, or rather, being forced to listen to her as she lectured him- but she knew it was necessary for their plan.

 _And now that Emily is out of the sheds, it will be up to someone to send Sir Topham Hatt's message to her…_ Rosie grinned, _IF he can get me to send it to her, that is._

Of course, while Rosie was sometimes looked at as a chipper and cheeky fool by some engines, she was in reality very observant. Of the things that she learned through observation, there was the layout of not only the different railway routes, but also the roads that ran alongside many of them. Therefore, as she steamed away from Tidmouth, she made sure to take the line that followed the road into the yards.

" _Does Sir Topham Hatt travel the same route to Tidmouth every day?"_ Rosie remembered asking the other three at the quarry.

" _Yes. He prefers to drive the straight road between Tidmouth and Knapford when he leaves Topham Hall. It's the one he trusts the most when he visits the sheds. Why?"_ Toby had asked.

" _No reason, just curious."_ Rosie smiled to herself, "It's all about the timing…"

Sure enough, she soon saw a familiar blue car that was traveling down the road. Inside, she saw the railway's head controller behind the wheel.

 _Right on time._ Just as Sir Topham Hatt was about to pass, Rosie stopped and whistled to him.

Surprised, he slowed to a stop and rolled down the window to lean out, not irritated but definitely impatient, "Yes, Rosie, did you need something? I'm in a rush right now."

"To Tidmouth to talk about Thomas's accident, right?" She asked.

"Yes, and speaking of which, you should get back soon and help clean that mess up." He frowned, "I won't lecture Thomas THIS time, but mark my words, the managers and I will be keeping my eyes on him around the shunting yards for awhile."

"I actually told the others, already, sir." Rosie informed, "But what we all want to know is when the turntable will be fixed."

"The crank mechanism and its track were damaged by the heavy freight in those cars that Thomas was messing with. It will be usable tomorrow, the work crew informed me, but not by tender engines. Their weight will easily upset table and trap them on it. Considering most of the engines at Tidmouth are tender engines and have their coaches at Knapford, I feel that they should know the most."

"Uh oh." Rosie pretended to look worried, "Emily said she had something to do that couldn't wait..."

"Oh, botheration! I swear, that Billington and that Single Tender…." He groaned, "Alright, then I want you to find Emily and tell her that I want all tender engines not to use that turntable. After that, get back to Knapford and help the workmen finish clearing its well for tomorrow. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" Rosie said, cheerfully.

"That's a good engine. Off you go, then. I'll spread the message to the others." Before he started off again, he turned and smiled, "Thank you for telling them about the accident for me. It will get them back to work much faster."

"Anytime, sir." Rosie answered, watching as he then drove away.

Then, for awhile, she stood in silence. Concerned, her driver and fireman leaned out of her cab, "Rosie? You okay?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm fine." She answered, letting off steam and moving forward, "Let's go and 'spread the message.'"

"Rosie, can I ask you something?" Her driver asked.

"What is it?"

"Listen, it's great that you want to help Thomas, but this really doesn't seem like our fight, even if you want to see what Emily's real personality is like." He shrugged, "Why do you want to be involved so badly?"

She stopped, _Good point. Why DO I want to help Thomas with this…?_

After all, her driver was right. She really didn't have to be involved with the plan in any other way than swearing silence, and yet there she was, about to place the final piece of the puzzle that would complete the entire setup for phase two of the plan itself. The devil's advocate part of her even rightly stated that she really had never paid Emily much mind before then. She had been nice to her, has suffered Emily's bossy buffers, but had otherwise ignored the Stirling.

 _So why...?_

She frowned, already knowing her answer.

"Well, Rosie?" Her fireman asked.

"It's because," She looked back at the two men, "I'm...kind of lonely."

"Lonely? Rosie, you are a very outgoing engine and one of the biggest extroverts on Sodor." Her driver seemed shocked, "How the heck are you lonely? You even have a bunch of friends!"

"There's Thomas on a good day, and then Molly, James, Stepney when he visits this part of the island, and Percy." Rosie raised an eyebrow, "Here's a hint: Molly is the odd one out."

"Molly's the odd on-?" Her driver's eyes widened, "Oh…"

"I'm lost. How is Molly different than the others?" The fireman scratched his head.

"Look closely at Rosie. What kind of engine is she?" The driver asked.

"She's an S.R. USA-"

"No, no, not her frame. Look closer," They climbed down from Rosie's cab and pointed at her smokebox, "at her face. Notice anything that she shares with Molly and not with her other friends?"

"Nothing, other than the fact she's a gir-" The fireman facepalmed, "Oh. I get it now."

Rosie did not know too much about Emily personally, but she DID know why the Stirling's arrival was such a big deal among the engines compared to the slightly-lacking, yet similar, reactions to her and Molly arriving on Sir Topham Hatt's railway.

It was because they were female. Before Emily, while there had been female engines like Daisy and Mavis, the idea of a female STEAM engine was unheard of on Sodor. The steam engine population on Sodor was completely male, and even older and wiser engines like Edward- who still remembered his arrival on Sodor- had never met a female steam engine and therefore considered such a concept to be up there with fairy tales like Rumpelstiltskin or gold being at the end of a rainbow. When Emily had first appeared, however, that way of thinking was so suddenly smashed to pieces. It was no wonder that Thomas and Percy were so eager to grow closer to the Stirling and consider her a sister, happy to be best friends with such a unique engine.

Unique for Sodor, that is. Rosie, being one herself, knew that there were in reality PLENTY of female engines that existed in the world. She herself had several sisters who still lived in the United States, or who had in the past worked in Brighton and Southampton alongside engines of Thomas and Percy's own classes. However, for some reason known only to God, she and her sisters- as well as the females of a lot of other engine classes- were a small minority compared to the amount of male engines. Her own inventor and father- a Christian to his final breath- had once told her that she and her sisters were given life like that, that females were fewer than males among engines because God wanted them to stand out as special.

"I know for a fact that you can shunt cars and set coaches better than the boys can, and they admit it!" He had laughed, "The Lord Himself probably made you to be one of the prime examples of your class."

It was, to her, an exaggeration, but his logic still seemed to largely hold up in the outside world. In fact, Rosie also knew all too well that female engines were worth more money on the market than males due to their uncommonality, and that Sir Topham Hatt had bought her for a price that was nearly fifty percent more than what her brothers- who had all been standing next to her- had cost. None of them had been offended, of course, and it had been a celebration among their entire family that Rosie would get to work and represent them on a railway somewhere other than her homeland, but while she DID feel special, the lack of other female engines to talk to on the island really saddened her. There was nothing wrong with being friends with engines like Percy and Stepney, she grew to think of them as brothers too, but in the few years she had lived on Sodor, the only fellow female engine that Rosie had really developed a close bond with was Molly. Mavis was nice, but Rosie always found it hard to relate to a diesel, and it was the same for Daisy. Molly, who was also looking for such a bond, had quickly grown to be her closest friend next to Thomas- and unlike Thomas, she actually found her imitations of him flattering and funny.

Then, last and debatably (as of the present moment) not the least, there was Emily- the very first female to set her wheels firmly on Sodor, since become one of the island's most notorious and rude bossy boilers.

"Maybe right now, she's not the sort of engine I'd like to have as a friend." Rosie said, softly, "But...if what Thomas told me was true, then that wasn't the real her. The real her, like he described, I'd want to be friends with. If we can actually do this, bring her back," She smiled at her crew, "who knows? Maybe it can be her, myself, and Molly. You know, like the Three Musketeers."

"That…." Her driver nodded, "I have to say, Rosie, that's actually not a bad goal to reach for."

"You can say that again." Her fireman agreed, "But...what if we can't bring the real Emily back?"

"All I say is this: I think Toby is wrong, and even if we fail, maybe there will still be a way we can go about it. However," She grinned at them, "I have a good feeling we won't have to cross that bridge. Let's at least see how my idea works out tomorrow."

The two men shared a look, and then her driver shook his head, "I wish the rest of us had your optimism."

 **Aaaand here it is, folks. After nearly a month of unmotivation and hiatus, here is chapter three.** **I** **was originally going to make this one long chapter that included Rosie joining Thomas with his** **mission, the preparation, and the outcome, but I decided to cut it here and save the rest of it for chapter four.**

 **Anyway, what do you guys think? Rosie's joined in, and I'm sure- if you guys are familiar with** **the classic series- you might've already figured out what Emily is in for in the next chapter** **the turntable. Yeah, it's gonna be interesting, I think. I gotta say, I was actually stumped for how to write this one, but big thanks to jriddle41** **for giving me this idea in a PM. Feedback is always appreciated, and I will see you guys again f** **or chapter four.**

 **Oh, and if you guys were curious about the reasoning I gave for Rosie about joining in on this (the stuff** **about female engines, I mean), it will actually play a part later on in the story. In the next chapter, I'm also hoping to maybe take a peek into Emily's point** **of view on all this, so bear with me as always.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Table #2- Where She'll Stop...Nobody Knows**

Thomas was used to lectures when it came to his cheekiness, but not in a dismissive sort of way. He couldn't deny that he learned a lesson every time he ended up in the Steamworks after something went wrong, but to the dismay of everyone- especially Sir Topham Hatt- that wasn't about to stop him from having fun in the first place- except in cases where he forgot himself and was much more rude and insulting than he originally planned, causing him to rethink how he would next speak to a particular friend of his, such as when he insulted Gordon far too much for the express engine's constant napping. As a result, knowing that they could not stop the tank engine no matter what, Thomas received a lot of lectures from a lot of different sources. These sources were mainly from Sir Topham Hatt about proper behavior for a really useful engine, Victor on safety, managers on the business aspect of the railway and the damage that even accidental confusion can do it, and so on.

"...and what if the turntable was damaged beyond any sort of repair, you dolt!? How much more confusion and delay would that cause?"

At the moment, Thomas would've taken any of those normal talks over the lecture Emily had decided to stop by and unleash on him. There were no formalities, just a quick look to see how he was doing before she opened her mouth and started scolding him like he was nothing more than a child.

 _As if she has the right…._ He rolled his eyes as she kept talking.

"Just think about it for a second: What if they have to fill it in, remove it entirely." Emily scolded, "That could take weeks, and work waits for no engine! What if ROSIE couldn't even get us our coaches? Would everyone have laughed at your 'joke' th-"

"I'm telling you, Emily, it was an ACCIDENT." He finally interrupted, though inside he knew she actually had a point- not that he would admit he had done it deliberately in the first place, "I wasn't even trying to ruin the turntable, just a surprise round of hide and seek with everyone's freight cars- nothing too serious, and not too much confusion caused."

"So...what? Were you going to hide all of them in the COACH SHED?" In front of his berth, the Stirling looked dumbfounded as well as irritated with that explanation, "No one would think to look there!"

"At first, you mean: Your coaches are in there, and you have one of the earliest runs along with me and Gordon, so you would've probably been the first to find them. Besides, hiding them in one place is better than scattering them around the yard like Easter eggs." Thomas defended. "I decided to be a bit more considerate of everyone else's schedule this time around."

"'A bit more considerate', huh?" The look on her face told him that she didn't believe it for a second.

"Seriously, Emily, I knew what I was doing. I had it all planned out, in fact," He sighed, "but then my brakes went and failed at the last minute."

"I find that hard to believe, because they definitely seemed to be working perfectly LAST NIGHT." Emily huffed, angrily glaring at him, "You know, when I just barely convinced you to stop after you decided to nearly leave your passengers? And after all the work I put in to bring them to you, you ungrateful tank engine!"

 _Ungrateful is actually right, to a point._ Thomas internally admitted, _BUT you can't tell her that._

"Ugh, are you REALLY still sore over that? Listen, Emily, I set a deadline, and you said you could do it." Thomas glared back, dismissive, "It's not MY fault you were delayed and nearly ruined it for the passengers."

"It wasn't MY fault, either! Besides, you set an impossible deadline for me!"

"Things like that happen all the time on Sodor, so get used to it AND the verbal abuse from passengers that is sometimes included. Trust me, you have NO idea how often Sir Topham Hatt does the same thing to me, Gordon, James, and Edward, especially during inspections and the tourist season. It was bound to happen to even you eventually, especially with how long you like to make your runs." He smirked, "A 'wise' engine once told me, 'There's always a first time.'"

"I was practically stopped right next to you when you took off!" She grit her teeth, "And stop using my words against me like that!"

"I'm just stating the same facts you are. It doesn't matter, anyway. My point still stands: You arrived severely behind schedule, Miss The-Children-Will-Make-You-Late."

Emily's face flushed red with fury, "Was THAT your problem? SERIOUSLY!?"

"...Yeah, yeah, you've got me all figured out. Okay, I CONFESS," Thomas growled, "I was tired of certain engines NAGGING me on how I do my passenger trains when I've been on Sodor for longer and have been doing passenger trains here for around the same amount of time."

"..."

Thomas could safely say that the look he was given in response was the first real death-stare that he had ever received from another steam engine, but he was not about to even joke about how Emily had earned a place next to several particularly-devious diesels for being that sort of first. He also had a feeling that if he had any sort of neck at that moment, and Emily had been gifted hands, her first use of them would be to strangle him.

"Listen, you," She said with flames in her eyes, "it's not MY fault that you like to spend hours talking when you should be working." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying not to erupt like a volcano, "But...Okay, look, maybe I get carried away sometimes, because you're right: You've been doing this for longer than I have. Maybe I AM just too punctual for my own good, and I take it out on you, but it's only because I don't want you to get into trouble- I've DEFINITELY been here long enough to have some experience with outraged people. THAT, though? Last night?" She leveled a cold look at him, "That was uncalled for, Thomas."

She was right, despite the irony of her having done almost the same thing at times, but Thomas knew he couldn't admit it, not to her face. Instead, he just matched her expression again, "Well, I can handle my trains just fine. I don't need your help with them, so mind your own business, Emily."

"You know what? I think I will, actually." She huffed, backing onto the Steamworks turntable and spinning around, "After all, it wouldn't be ME who's getting in trouble with the passengers then, would it?"

"Whatever." Thomas growled.

"Oh, you little…!" She bit her lip, "Just be glad that I at least cared enough to come and visit you."

"I doubt you were the only one." Thomas retorted, knowing full-well that even DIESEL would sometimes cave in (he always denied it, of course) and check up on him, Duck or Percy if the tank engines' stay was a long one. Of course, his excuse with each engine would always be 'to see and hope that he was bad enough for scrap,' but Thomas would still see the concern in their arch-rival's eyes.

"I was the only one who cared AND had the time. Percy, Edward, and Henry were all concerned too, but they're probably back to work right now and will probably be busy doing what they're SUPPOSED to." She glanced back at him, matter-of-factly, "We ALL have our own work to do, and Sodor's railway doesn't need a tank engine with too much time on his buffers to make even more for us, accident or not."

That one hurt. Aside from when he and Percy had forgotten themselves as they teased Salty, Emily NEVER used to view Thomas's cheeky nature like that. In fact, not even GORDON viewed Thomas's behavior like that, even laughing on many occasions. Yes, everyone else could get annoyed by Thomas, but they at least knew it was all a sign of friendship from him. Never once did they actually view it as if it as an actual threat to the survival of Sodor's railway, and even if they did, they never said it outright to his face.

But even more than that….

"Funny." He frowned at her as she started to puff away, bringing up a memory, "I pulled the same trick once before, but that time I actually scattered the cars around the yard and you even had to pull one of the trains I took from." His gaze never wavered, "It was worse than what I planned today, and you laughed then. You even had FUN helping Edward look for the three or four freight cars I hid."

Emily stopped.

"I pulled that same trick TWICE, actually, three months apart from one another. Both times, you had fun and you laughed." He closed his eyes, "And more than that, even: You had a fun with some of my other tricks too, and we all laughed even after something went wrong and I ended up here. Tell me, Emily: What's so different about this prank and accident that you suddenly treat it like a bane on your existence?"

She glanced back at him. Her was glare ice-cold, and even if it wasn't directly pointed at him, Thomas still shivered, "We don't age like people, Thomas, but we still have to grow up at some point. Life isn't all fun and games, you know. Things aren't just going to be handed to you on a silver platter. Here on Sodor, I learned that you make your mark by doing hard work and doing it WELL- You have to EARN your place, your status, everything. None of us are special cases," She paused, looking away, "and some of us can even be less…."

Thomas blinked, both stunned and confused by her words, "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that going about and playing games like you do doesn't help with anything, doesn't earn you anything but a bad name and reputation. I'm honestly surprised that Sir Topham Hatt hasn't started punishing you in the worst ways imaginable by now, or at least given you more day-to-day jobs to lessen the chances of you causing confusion like you did today. Maybe it all CAN be fun in the beginning, but it gets old really fast. There are rules to follow, and there is always a lot of work to be done." She glared back at him again, "It would probably get done a lot faster if we also SHARED some of the privileges we have with one another, wouldn't it?"

 _Ouch._ It was a direct punch right in the smokebox for Thomas, reminding him of how he'd behaved when Emily accidentally took his coaches- his own sign of the promotion he underwent from a station pilot to a passenger engine. The rest of what she said made that punch ache badly. For a moment, he struggled to hold his firm expression in place as Emily finally puffed away, knowing he couldn't show weakness while she was around.

Regardless, it faltered because he knew that- real Emily or not- it all had to have been the most hurtful thing she had ever said to him.

 _She accepted my apology at the time, too, after she accidentally took Annie and Clarabel, but now it's like I never apologized at all to her._ He clenched his teeth, _Don't let it get you down. Just stay strong. 'Sticks and stones', remember? Sticks and stones…._

Victor, who had been silently observing from a safe distance away, puffed up next to Thomas and observed his face, "Are you alright, Thomas?"

"What she said...She just called me immature, a troublemaker who doesn't do much work. If I wasn't mature," The tank engine answered at a whisper, more to himself than the Steamworks engine, "I wouldn't have apologized for how I acted when I DIDN'T want to share something of mine. And I DO work hard. I DO follow the rules most of the time..."

"She did appear to be making quite a few...personal comments at the end there, yet when she arrived, it seemed to just start out like a particularly bad scolding on her part." Victor hummed in thought, "Is there...something going on between you two?"

"You could say that." Thomas answered, his voice nothing but a murmur.

"I am always willing to listen, if you'd like to tell me."

"Thanks, Victor, but...this is for me to deal with."

"I see." Victor nodded, "Well...your brakes looked fine after we checked them, but I will admit that looks can be deceiving. The crew says that you'll have your new ones this evening, and you'll be clear to leave by nighttime." He looked out to where Emily had gone, "Or...would you rather prefer to spend the night?"

"No, I have to go home eventually." Thomas sighed, "Besides, I...actually kinda want to see Percy and the others right about now. I haven't seen them since yesterday morning…."

"I understand, Thomas." Victor made to back away, but stopped, "Forgive me if this is pushing it, but...did your brakes REALLY fail? Or...was this all to get away from Emily for...whatever reason you and her are angry with one another?"

 _It's actually FOR Emily._ Thomas sighed, "If I tell you outright, you'd have to report it to the work crew, wouldn't you? Then that goes straight to Sir Topham Hatt, and...believe it or not, I want to keep this as between me and Emily as possible."

"Then I suppose giving me deniability is the best course, if that's truly what you want." Victor started to reverse, "In any case, I'll leave you be for a minute, my friend."

"Thanks, Victor."

…..

The cleanup at Knapford hadn't taken very long, and Rosie was out of there quickly after working to haul away both flatbeds bearing the freight cars that could be salvaged and trucks of debris from the cars that couldn't be saved at all. Once she was done, and after confirming with her own eyes that the turntable was truly unusable for tender engines as Sir Topham Hatt had said was reported, she quickly made her way out of Knapford and towards the Steamworks. As she went, she prayed that Emily hadn't just stopped by for a quick hello and had actually stayed long enough so that Rosie could find her easily.

Luckily, just as Rosie was approaching the main building, Emily emerged from within. The Stirling was deep in thought, and her expression look irritated. That was obviously from her talk with Thomas, but that was to be expected, especially considering the last time the two had spoken had been the previous night's incident.

Rosie carefully approached and put on a cheerful smile, "Oh! Hi again, Emily!"

"Hm?" Emily looked up, surprised, "Rosie? What are you doing here?"

"The cleanup's all finished. I'm here to visit Thomas, see how he's doing since I left him here."

Emily huffed, rolling her eyes, "He looks fine to me. He definitely hasn't seemed to learn his lesson, as always. I wouldn't be surprised if he had to come back here tomorrow for another crazy stunt of his."

' _Crazy stunt?' And yet, Thomas told me that she always seemed to ENJOY his jokes._ Rosie thought, "Let me guess: You gave him a lecture and it didn't work?"

"That about sums it up, yes." As she spoke, though, Rosie noticed something briefly flash in her eyes, _What was that?_

Sadly, Rosie was better at feeling emotion than visibly spotting it, especially if it was there and gone so quickly that she was prevented from knowing for sure. However, she still made a mental note to tell Thomas about it sometime in the future.

"Oh, wait, I should ask…" Emily suddenly looked at Rosie, very attentive, "You helped clean up that mess he made, didn't you? How bad is it?"

 _Here we go!_

Rosie smiled, "The track and mechanism on the table are in pretty bad shape, but it should seem fine for certain engines to work on, so long as they're careful. Sir Topham Hatt told me that Thomas and I should get your coaches, though, because tender engines like you tend to upset the table."

"Hmph, I think I'll take my chances. You bump them too hard," Emily glanced back at the Steamworks, "and I don't think I want Thomas messing with them. Thanks for the info, though, Rosie. Take care." With a farewell whistle, Emily puffed past Rosie and steamed off. Rosie watched after her for a moment.

"I feel bad for Thomas." Her driver said, "Rosie, are you sure you really want someone like HER as a real friend? She even insulted your shunting skills just now."

"No, I don't want Emily the Bossy Boiler," Rosie answered, "but, like I said, if it's true that's not the real her."

"Thomas's idea from last night didn't seem to work too well. It might've actually made things worse between them. I'm still having my doubts that the real Emily isn't that one after all." Her fireman pressed a finger to his temple.

"I'm not too sure about that." Rosie thought back to that flash of emotion she had seen in Emily's eyes, _I wonder…_

Shaking the thought aside for the moment, Rosie puffed into the Steamworks and quickly searched around for Thomas. Sure enough, she found him off to the side, on the tracks for the time being but unable to safely go anywhere without his brakes.

Rosie faltered a bit at how...distressed he now looked, his sad eyes focused on the ground, _Oh boy, Emily must've said something REALLY bad to him if he's like this._ She shivered, _I don't think I want to know what._

"Thomas?" She asked, puffing up to him, "You...Are you okay?"

He looked up at her, slowly, "I'm honestly not sure."

"I don't really wanna know, but," She looked at him, concerned, "what did she say to you?"

"A few things the old Emily wouldn't have said. Let's keep it at that." He sighed, composing himself, "Is...everything ready?"

"Yeah, it's all set." She looked him up and down, "It's not too late to stop this, and she's not too far away for me to give her the right message. If you can't bear to let it-"

"No." Thomas cast her a stern glare, "What she said hit me a bit hard, but I can still go through with the plan. I HAVE to."

"If you're sure…." Rosie raised an eyebrow.

"You're the one who wanted in." He forced a grin, "I can't let yours truly- one of the main architects of this whole thing- be upstaged by you, can I?"

"That's the spirit- I guess" Rosie smiled, then frowned again, "But Thomas, I want you to promise me something like you told me you promised Mavis: If you want the plan to stop, we'll all put on the brakes and let things go back to normal."

"After last night and the conversation I had with Emily today, I don't think there's any way to go but forward with this." He said, completely serious.

Then Thomas suddenly grinned, "Wait…'put on the brakes? Was that a PUN? I'm here in pain, and all you can do is make puns about my poor brakes to help pass the time?"

"Oh, quiet!" Rosie laughed, despite herself.

"Ah, I see Rosie here's somehow able to brighten your spirits a bit." Both tank engines looked to see Victor approaching. He stopped next to Thomas with a smile, "That's very good to see, actually."

"She's annoying-" Thomas answered.

Rosie scowled.

"-BUT she's still like a sister to me, in her own way." He finished, "Annoying, yet somehow fun to be around."

"What can I say?" Rosie beamed with pride, "I just have that effect on some engines."

"Which effect is larger? The annoying effect or the-?"

"That depends: Would you rather stay here and have li'l ole' me visit you for hours on end until I decide to leave- and ONLY when I decide to leave?" She challenged, smirking, "Or would you rather have the chance to run away and tell me to get lost- with a seventy-percent chance that I will keep following you around everywhere anyway?"

Thomas was so horrified, he couldn't even answer at first, "Th-THAT'S NOT A REAL CHOICE!"

"Yes, it is! It's a Hobson's choice!" Rosie giggled, reciting, "'Either take the horse closest to the stable door, or no horse at all.'"

Victor chuckled, "Well, it's good to know that the crew won't have to deal with you being in too much of a sour mood when your new brakes are installed, Thomas. They'll on their way over to work on you soon, once they manage to finally locate them in that mess they call a storage shed." He glanced to the open door, looking at the sky outside, "On a positive note, maybe it was good for you to get them replaced today, however unexpectedly."

"Oh?" Rosie raised an eyebrow, "Why's that?"

"I usually take weather forecasts with a grain of salt, but the manager says that we're expected to get a storm in a few days, roughly a week." The dark-red engine rolled his eyes, "It's supposed to be a gradual buildup, starting with a particularly strong breeze tomorrow."

"A particularly strong breeze, huh?" Rosie asked, though inside, she was delighted, "That doesn't sound so bad."

"To you, maybe, but I heard that our friend James always seems cautious if not terrified of even those little winds."

Rosie smiled. She already knew the answer to her next question, and she knew that Thomas did as well, but she still wanted to hear it out loud, "Oh really? Why's that?"

Victor laughed, "To be fair, I don't really know. He never trusted me and my reputation for gossip enough to tell anyone here, that's for sure. He only said that it was embarrassing."

Next to Rosie, though, Thomas's eyes suddenly widened.

"Something the matter, Thomas?" Victor asked.

"No, nothing, Victor." As he spoke, though, his shocked gaze turned on Rosie, "Nothing at all…"

Victor looked unconvinced, but before he could say anything else, a workman suddenly called him over to the other side of the building. With a mumbled goodbye, he quickly made his way over to the man.

The second he was gone, Thomas exploded on Rosie, "THAT'S THE PLAN!?"

"Yes." She raises an eyebrow, still smiling, "Wasn't it obvious?"

"No, it wasn't obvious!" Thomas cried, "You actually neglected to tell me ANYTHING about why I damaged that turntable. Did you really expect me to put it together myself?"

"Um, yes? Thomas, you're a smart engine," Rosie seemed surprised, "you seriously went along with something DIFFERENT in mind? Actually, check that, you actually went along with something I- me, myself, and your biggest and most annoying follower- suggested AT ALL without knowing entirely what it is?"

 _That was obviously a mistake, I'm seeing._ Thomas thought as he scowled, "Oh, I'm sorry. Don't worry, if this makes the history books, I'll quote myself as saying, 'I apologize for what I did, the people and engines I've hurt, and I also apologize for forgetting that it was ROSIE THE TANK ENGINE who I was listening to when I agreed to commit the crime.'"

"Oh shut up! You know you love me." She grinned.

"That is now debatable."

"ANYWAY," She got their conversation back on track, "what DID you think the plan was going to be?"

"I thought we were going to do something like convince Sir Topham Hatt to schedule a surprise run for her, but with the turntable broken, we were going to have her be stuck waiting for her coaches while we do 'more important work.' You know, deal with her impatient side?" Thomas explained, "I was NOT expecting….this!"

"Is it a good way to turn the tables?"

"Well, it's DEFINITELY humiliating and it WILL get her into trouble, but-" Thomas looked away.

"Does it classify as either being bossy or a bully?"

"Yes, but-"

"Do you think we'd get one step further towards our goal this way?" Rosie came closer and stared at him, point-blank, "Is it a GOOD plan?"

"..."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You…" He looked back at her, "Forget what Mavis said this morning, about you being bubbly and chipper. You are VICIOUS when it comes to this sort of thing."

"I know. So...are we still a go? If we are, then there's a few cue-cards I need to give you."

"Will Emily be seriously hurt? Physically, I mean?"

"Not that I know of. The only thing hurt," Rosie grinned, wickedly, "will be her pride."

"...Let's do it."

….

After he was cleared to return home that evening, Thomas puffed back to Tidmouth Sheds and settled into his berth on the far left. It was quiet, and the doors to everyone else's berths were shut tight, the only sound being that of light snoring coming from within. Not even the crickets sounded too loud or close that night.

As he got comfortable, his eyes wandered over to the line of other engines next to him. Sure enough, not a single member of the Steam Team was absent on that night. Even Gordon was already there, his nightly express run over and done with, and sleeping like a log.

Eventually, Thomas's gaze landed on Emily at the far right end. Her eyes were closed, and a frown had settled on her face, _No doubt from our conversation earlier._

He sighed, continuing to look over at his friends. Eventually, he started to look up the entire row, _Edward, Henry, Gordon, James, Per-_

Percy was wide awake, staring at him.

"Ah-!" Thomas bit his lower lip, painfully stifling his scream before speaking in a harsh whisper, "Percy, what are you doing!?"

"Oh, me? Nothing." Percy dismissed, still staring, eyes wide and unblinking.

Thomas scowled, "You KNOW I hate it when you just sit there and stare at me like that!"

"It's the only way I figured I could get your attention without making too much noise." Percy chuckled, then frowned, "I wanted to wait up for you, see when you came back."

"Yeah, and scare me off of my own wheels in the process." Thomas smiled, "Anyway, it's good to hear that someone stayed up, Percy, but you didn't really need to do-" His friend's inquisitive tone suddenly clicked at that moment, and his smile fell, "My brakes really DID fail, okay? I'm not lying."

"Thomas, I saw you PLENTY of times yesterday and I know the signs of brakes that are about to fail on another engine." Percy raised an eyebrow, "You had NONE of them."

Thomas gulped.

"BUT I'll take it with a grain of salt, because that's not important right now." The green engine sighed, "I was actually gonna ask you something else: What...happened last night? Did something happen with Emily?"

"What makes you think I know?" Thomas questioned, realizing that Emily had most likely not said anything to the others, after all.

"She's been in a bad mood with us ever since around the time of your night train. She refuses to talk about it, she snaps at everyone who mentions it, and while a few of us are thinking that she's just overreacting to being late," Percy glanced over at the sleeping Stirling, "I actually think she seems more mad at YOU than the fact that she was behind schedule."

 _Good observation._ Thomas looked away, uneasy, realizing where this was going, "I'm not sure I should-"

"Please, Thomas. Look, I know she's...different than she used to be," Percy grimaced, "but you guys are still family. I still get concerned for her."

For a long moment, Thomas could only look Percy up and down in consideration.

 _He's my best friend, family, a brother in the way that Emily was, and Rosie is, a sister. But Toby was right- we can't let too many engines know. Very few might be willing to either support it or stand aside and let it happen._ He thought, conflicted, _But now PERCY wants to know. What can I even say to him?_

For a moment, he flashed back to the first day that he had met the small green tank engine, as well as all the adventures and misadventures that they had been on in the many years since. As he did this, his mind also answered with two words: _The truth._

 _Yeah,_ Thomas sighed, _he deserves to know._

If he was honest, while Rosie was a unexpected change of plans, he had actually expected that Percy would have to be told what they were up to at some point- if not for any practical role, then to at least be someone Thomas could open up to about it. He was the one engine that he trusted the most to find out, and had actually started thinking about him as well as Rosie when he had mentioned to Toby that they could use a bit more help. The only issue was that, while Rosie was a confirmed yes, Percy was among the most sympathetic and sensitive towards others' feelings and would like the sound of the plan even LESS than everyone else- including Mavis- did.

Thomas knew that he was risking his closest friendship both ways, with Percy looking at him as either a bully or as if he was keeping too many secrets from him, and he also knew he was going to get an earful from Toby for pretty much driving himself into the bind of having to tell ANOTHER engine, but…

He looked over at his friend with a deadly-serious expression, making his decision, "Percy, I need you to promise that, no matter what, you will NOT speak a word to ANYONE- especially not Emily- whether you are for it or not. Can I trust you to do that- keep quiet on it, I mean?"

"I guess." Percy nodded, "But the question is: What am I agreeing to be either for or not for?"

"I can't say it here." Thomas paused, looking cautiously at the rest of the Steam Team before whispering, "Emily's first passenger run is at ten in the morning. Meet me at Knapford, the sidings nearest to the coach sheds. Before she left, I asked Rosie to set up Annie and Clarabel for my ten-thirty passenger run, just so I could have a chance to watch what happens from the sidelines."

"Watch what?" Percy asked, now even more suspicious, "What are you up to, Thomas?"

"You'll see, and once it's over…" He took a deep breath, "head to the quarry as soon as you have a break in work. Even if me and Rosie aren't there, Mavis and Toby will be. They'll explain everything."

"...Okay. I'll be in the yards after my mail run and slow freight train are both over with- nine-twenty or maybe a few minutes later." Percy answered, hesitation in his voice, "Thomas… I'm not gonna like this, am I?"

"No," Thomas looked away, "you're not."

…..

The sidings that Thomas mentioned to Percy were two of three that were largely hidden from view behind some of the buildings, and normally home to a few extra freight cars. However, both lines of empty cars had been pulled out for use as per the yard manager's orders after Thomas's stunt the previous day, leaving two of them empty.

Beyond the buffers, there was a narrow- but clear- view of the turntable and the door to the coach sheds between the buildings.

Thomas was waiting by the points to the first siding when Percy finally arrived at nine-twenty-five, as instructed. Thomas silently gestured with his eyes, and Percy nodded before puffing into the siding. Once his friend was at the buffers, looking quietly out at the staging area, Thomas puffed forward and headed over to the second siding. A few workmen in the area glanced at him with caution, to make sure he wasn't up to anything else with the surrounding trains, but they looked away when they saw him puff into the empty siding. They didn't know what he was up to, but so long as it didn't involve another trick with cars and another mess to clean up, they were willing to look the other way.

Now in place, the two friends made themselves comfortable and waited. Thomas, of course, knew it wouldn't be a very long wait. Overhead, Thomas felt a low and strong breeze blow past his funnel, the weather that day exactly (and luckily) as Victor said had been predicted.

Before them, the damaged turntable didn't appear too bad to the naked eye. In fact, if he didn't know any better, Thomas would've thought it was already fixed- there were even plenty of workmen around that gave the impression that all was well- but he knew from experience that looks alone could be deceiving.

In fact, if he looked closely, he swore he could see the table shift….

Five minutes later, right on schedule, he heard the shrill tone of Rosie's whistle coming closer to the shed. The pink engine soon came into view, slowing down as she approached the turntable. Gently, she rolled over it and proceeded to the coach shed where Annie and Clarabel were waiting. The three of them greeted each other before Rosie buffered up to Annie and drew the two sisters out together.

"Careful, Rosie." One of the workmen warned, going to the turntable crank to steady it for her, "Thomas's coaches add quite a bit of weight to this thing."

"Are you calling us fat!?" Both ladies snapped, indignant. The workman recoiled from their angry gazes.

Thomas snickered.

"Of course he isn't, girls." Rosie said, sweetly, "You both look as lovely as ever, not a pound gained."

The coaches smiled, "Why thank you, Rosie."

"You know, I don't think I will ever understand females of any sort when it comes to how they view their weight..." Thomas's driver whispered, shaking his head in disbelief, "...and how the blazes a coach or an engine could think they can gain much weight at all."

"I think it's best not to even ask." His fireman answered. Thomas nodded, rolling his eyes.

Rosie brought the two coaches over the turntable, then switched to another line to place them a siding for Thomas. As she worked, Thomas easily noticed the discomfort on her face, "This would be so much easier if I wasn't pulling these two backwards."

"I wouldn't doubt it, but you heard the manager during the cleanup yesterday." The workman at the crank shrugged, quickly recovered from his experience with the coaches, and walked back over to a group of his coworkers, "We can't risk turning the table, not even for you, or else we might have to spend hours just to get it steady and re-aligned again. Speaking of which, I hope word got out to the tender engines at Tidmouth. James, Gordon, and Emily all have their coaches here."

"Don't worry. They know." Luckily, from where her face was hidden by Annie, none of the workmen saw Rosie's mischievous smirk as she looked at the shed. Thomas followed her gaze, his eyes landing on Emily's prized green coaches which sat there, waiting for their owner to come and get them.

Thomas gulped at the implication, _Rosie's DEFINITELY more devious than I once took her for. I should be careful not to EVER get on her bad side, because who knows what she does when she's actually ANGRY._ He was actually starting to feel a bit more sorry for Emily, _Forget the other night. I pray that THIS one is the one that works, because if it doesn't…._

Thomas honestly didn't want to know what other sorts of tricks Rosie could think of to pull on the Stirling.

 _FWEET! FWEET!_

 _Speaking of Emily…_ Thomas looked over to his right, wishing he could see how Percy was reacting so far as another familiar yet much more melodic whistle sounded near the entrance to the yards.

Sure enough, with his driver's watch reading nine-thirty-eight, Emily herself slowly steamed into view and stopped next to Rosie. Thomas couldn't see her face from where he was, her tender and tail-light facing him, but he could conclude from the cheerful greeting she gave Rosie that she was smiling, "Good morning, Rosie!"

"Morning, Emily." Rosie responded, equally cheerful, "I was just getting Annie and Clarabel here ready for Thomas. Yours are in the shed."

"Perfect." With that, Emily moved towards the turntable.

"Uh, Emily, wait a sec." Rosie stopped her, leaving the sisters in the siding and coming up next to her, "What are you doing?"

"Getting my coaches?"

"But don't you remember what I said yesterday? Wait here, and I'll get your coaches for you."

"I can get them just fine, Rosie.'" Emily answered, sounding a little miffed by the comment, "Are you saying I'm not careful."

"Huh? No, nono, I'm not saying THAT, but-"

"Look, Rosie, I told you yesterday: I got this."

"Hmm…" Rosie seemed to study her.

"What?"

"...You really don't like anyone touching your coaches either, do you?" Thomas could FEEL Rosie's eye-roll in the tone of her sentence, "Geez, you and Thomas aren't that much different."

"What are you saying?" Emily demanded.

"I mean...Think about it: You guys may act like you hate each other right now, but from my experience, you guys sound like you're so much alike," The pink engine suddenly laughed, "it sounds like the start of something MORE~!"

"Huh!? Buh-...I-...WHAT!?" Emily cried, caught off-guard.

Nearby, Thomas's driver and fireman were trying their hardest not to give their position away with laughter. The fact that Thomas stood frozen, eyes wide and mouth open in complete shock, did not help matters, his mind running on broken and wayward rails inside his smokebox, _D-Did Rosie just-? Where did that-? I don't-!_

"You heard me." Rosie teased, "You and Thomas might actually be made for each other!"

 _I-I mean...Emily IS quite beautiful, and before she changed, she DID have quite an attractive personality._ Thomas continued to struggle with his train of thought, blushing furiously, _B-but she was a SISTER to me. I...I never once…_ He sighed, trying to calm himself and praying that Percy wouldn't tease him about that one later, _That's NOT what I wanted him to hear, anyway, and we're here for something...serious, so...so FOCUS!_

"Um, Thomas?" His driver chortled, "You okay?"

Thomas glared back at him, silent.

"Okay, I'll take that as a 'maybe.'"

Emily, on the other hand, didn't hesitate even SLIGHTLY when voicing her opinion.

"Are-Are you INSANE!?" She growled, her face no doubt red from a serious blush as well as indignation, "Me and Thomas? LIKE EACH OTHER? Rosie, no offense, but I think you need to get out of the yards more and actually see more of the island from somewhere beyond them instead of just staying and listening to empty rumors."

"I've been outside the yards PLENTY of times!" Rosie retorted, and Thomas knew that she was legitimately offended by that remark, "I think I know at least as much as you do! And besides, that was wasn't a rumor- it was my own observation."

"Then you probably need a pair of glasses- Thomas is a FRIEND of mine, nothing more." The Stirling's voice lowered a bit, "Besides, he and I really aren't even on friendly relations right now, either."

It hurt to hear her call him 'friend' and 'nothing more' in contrast to when she once declared both him and Percy to be like brothers to her, but Thomas couldn't argue with her overall logic. In fact, considering how he had acted the other night towards her…., _It's all part of the plan, though._

"Oh yeah, I...remember James mentioned that? What happened back then, anyway?" Rosie asked, though she already knew, "Whatever it was, it seemed to really make you upset."

Emily seemed to hesitate before dismissing the question entirely, "Look, I...Rosie, I don't really want to talk about it. Besides, my passenger train starts off in a few minutes. I really need to get my coaches and head over to the station."

"Emily, wait, I'm drop-dead serious this time." Rosie insisted, stopping her again, "You shouldn't risk that turntable."

"And why not?"

"Haven't you noticed the wind?" As she spoke, the wind seemed to noticeably pick up a bit as if to introduce itself, "Let me get your coaches."

"Rosie-"

"I INSIST that you let me get them for you."

"And I insist that they're my coaches and my responsibility, Rosie. I really don't know what the wind has to do with it, but I'm going to be really careful either way anyway." Emily said, getting even more irritated, "It's a small turntable, anyway, so it's not like it'll collapse beneath me before I can even get close to the other side."

"But it's-!"

"It's FINE, Rosie." Emily interrupted, "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Putting a rude end to the conversation, the Stirling puffed as slowly as possible towards the damaged table, gently easing herself onto it with as much care as she could muster, considering her schedule. Seeing what she was doing, several of the workmen immediately cut their conversation short and rushed over, waving their arms.

Several of them also started shouting.

"Emily, hold it!"

"You can't go on that! Get off!"

"Don't use the turntable!"

"Why no-Ah!?" Emily's question was cut short as the turntable suddenly moved. With her whole frame completely settled on it, tender and all, and the broken turn mechanism failing to anchor it in any way, she gave a loud cry of surprise as the table drifted over to the right and completely cut her off from the rest of the tracks. With no way to go forward or backward without derailing, Emily was left stranded.

"What the-?" Now having turned enough to be facing more towards his position, Thomas could see Emily's wide eyes darting back and forth with deep concern, "I thought I was car-"

"Hey! What's all the yelling about?" The yard manager came around the side of the coach shed, looking very displeased with all the noise. When he saw Emily on the turntable, he gawked, "Emily, what are you DOING!?"

"I was trying to get my coaches, sir, but-" Emily tried to explain.

"You foolish engine!" The manager groaned, bitterly, "Did you not hear the news? No tender engines are to be on that turntable AT ALL until it's fixed."

"At all? B-but…" Emily looked over at Rosie, "Rosie, you told me that I just had to be careful!"

"I said that CERTAIN engines could work on it if they were careful. 'Certain' as in TANK ENGINES." Rosie retorted, exasperated, "I forgot to clarify that yesterday, but when I tried to do that just now, you weren't listening!"

"You could've just said it outright! Maybe an 'Emily, I forgot to mention that no tender engines are supposed to be on that?'"

"I didn't want you to worry about your coaches getting damaged, so I was trying to...lead into it nicely!" Rosie seemed to falter, but she quickly regained herself, staring hard at Emily, "I know Thomas would FLIP OUT if I just bluntly told him, 'Hey, Thomas, the turntable's broken and Annie and Clarabel might get hurt.' How would YOU respond to that about your coaches or even yourself?"

"Quite right!" The nearby orange coaches concurred, "She's quite right."

 _Actually, I would've preferred to a blunt explanation, myself._ Thomas thought, though he had to wonder if he really WAS so possessive of the sisters that Rosie's point was actually valid from her point of view, _I hope not. She DOES know I trust her with them more than that, right….?_

Emily glared at them sisters, still speaking to Rosie, "Well, I'm not Thomas- and I would LOVE it if you could stop comparing me to him!"

"Can you blame me?" Rosie grumbled, "I'm serious: Sometimes, I really can't tell you two apart…"

"I'm still NOT HIM!" Emily retorted, "You could've just told me-!"

"Okay, that's enough!" Both female engines jumped at the yard manager's voice, watching the as the man stepped between them, "We'll deal with this word game later. Right now, we need to get Emily off of that table, quickly."

"Quickly?" The Stirling asked, nervously, "Why quickly? What's going to happen if I don't?"

The manager opened his mouth to answer, but it was at that moment the answer came.

The wind picked up even more.

To the horror of everyone, especially Emily, the turntable slowly began to rotate on its own, picking up speed.

"Both of you!" The yard manager cried to the Stirling's driver and fireman, "Get clear! Now!"

The two men did that, clumsily getting down from Emily's cab and jumping off the end of the spinning table just as it began to increase speed. With the emerald engine acting as a center of gravity and no way to anchor it, it began to spin like a carousel.

Its speed then increased until it was as fast as an engine's wheel during a passenger run.

"H-hey, what-? S-someone stop this thing!" Emily stammered, sounding very frightened indeed.

The workmen could do nothing. They could only watch, helpless, as the table's rotation increased to that of a slow-spinning top. On it, the Stirling was beginning to turn into nothing more than a dark-green blur.

"Oh my goodness!" Annie cried as she and Clarabel watched from the siding, "This isn't good!"

The wind picked up even more, and Thomas began to feel dizzy himself as the turntable made like a helicopter's rotors and the poor engine trapped on it became a complete and shapeless blur.

"He-e-eelp me!" Emily cried, her voice sounding strained, "Ple-e-ase!"

"Just hang in there, Emily!" Rosie yelled to her.

Thomas gulped. Even though they had known it was going to happen like this, it was still a nightmare to watch this happen to any engine- even if that engine was a bossy boiler. When James had told him of his own, similar incident, it had been pretty scary to even hear. He wouldn't have wished it on anyone, and he had no doubt that Percy was more than horrified as well with what was happening, _Just wait until he pieces it all together, and figures out…._

"We can't do SOMETHING, at least!?" Emily's driver looked at the yard manager in desperation.

Her fireman shared the sentiment, "We can't just stand here and let the poor girl get motion sickness on that thing! Worse, she might get derailed and hurt!"

"We can't do ANYTHING until the wind dies down!" The manager told them, "It's spinning too fast for an engine to stop it, and I am NOT about to just place any of my crew in there to try to push against it when it's this much of a death-trap!"

"He-eelp!" Emily screamed, her voice weaker, "I'm….ge-etting….di-izzy….!"

"Just...just hang on, Emily!" Her driver tried to encourage her, "It'll slow down soon enough...I hope…."

 _So do I._ Thomas agreed, and as if they could read his thoughts, his own crew nodded in agreement.

….

It took about an hour, maybe an hour and a half that left Thomas feeling dizzy himself either way, but soon as the wind had died down enough to let the turntable slow considerably, the yard manager ordered a chain attached to Rosie. Bracing herself, the pink engine waited as one of the workmen tossed the hook over on the side of the turntable near Emily's front wheels. Reversing so as to secure it tightly, Rosie grunted as the spinning table yanked her forward.

"Careful, Rosie…." Still watching from the siding, Thomas kept a close eye on the process with bated breath.

With sparks flying from her wheels, Rosie eventually managed to gained traction on the rails and pull back in order to the stop the table's rotation entirely. Once that was done, the yard manager ordered a group of men down into the well to line the table with the tracks. With Emily's weight on it, it was difficult, but the addition of Rosie pulling back with the chain provided them with a lot of help as they thankfully lined the table up with the tracks on either side.

"Get some scrap-wood planks to brace and secure it." The manager ordered his crew, "Make sure they're made of the really strong stuff."

"You couldn't have done that BEFORE this mess?" Emily's fireman asked, an unamused expression on his face as the workmen left to fetch what was needed.

"Well, BEFORE, we thought we could trust the engines to receive instructions clearly." The manager glared at Emily.

Emily, on the other hand, didn't even seem to notice the man's glare. In fact, she hardly seemed to even be entirely there with herself. Having been spun to face away from the shed now, Thomas could see the result of her impromptu session of Roundabouts: Her eyes were slowly spinning in a dizzied motion, and her face was such a sickly shade of green that it almost seemed like the color itself was painted on her normally-grey cheeks.

She looked tired, embarrassed, and more than even that, she looked absolutely miserable. Her driver and fireman rushed over to check on her, but while she managed to get her eyes to stop spinning enough to look at them, she couldn't seem to muster the energy to speak just yet.

The worst was yet to come.

Everyone froze as the sound of a car's horn echoed throughout the area, and a moment later, Sir Topham Hatt marched into Thomas's view with a most disappointed and cross look adorning his face, _Uh-oh…_

"Emily, what in the BLAZES happened here!?" The controller demanded, going over to the two female engines and crossing his arms, "I have so many angry passengers in the station, waiting at platforms two and four for both you AND Thomas. And now, not ONLY can I not find that cheeky tank engine anywhere, I'm ALSO hearing that you violated a direct order to stay off this turntable!"

"R-Rosie told me that it was fine for some engines to use it if I was careful!" Emily defended.

"No, you said that I told you that YOU could use the table if you were careful." Rosie argued, "I actually said only CERTAIN engines could use it, meaning tank engines like me, Thomas, or Percy."

"What? Rosie, that is NOT the exact message I told you to give Emily." Sir Topham Hatt spun to face the station pilot, "I told you to specifically say that no tender engines were allowed on the table at all, not 'certain engines if careful.'"

"I thought Emily would interpret it that way, sir. She's usually SO 'smart', knowing and understanding everything." Rosie protested, "But when she kept going towards the table, I tried to warn her, and she wouldn't listen."

"You couldn't have told her outright?" Sir Topham Hatt seemed as annoyed as Emily had been by her supposed lack of common sense.

"She and Thomas both are just SO possessive of their coaches, and she even tries her hardest to not let me touch hers at all." The pink engine looked bitterly at the emerald one on the turntable, "I was trying to lead into it because I thought telling her outright would've only caused her to want to get them herself even more."

Emily could only look at Rosie with complete shock, no doubt caught entirely off-guard by her sudden and uncharacteristic change in attitude. Earlier, Rosie's exasperation was understandable, but Rosie never got or remained downright accusatory with anyone- she was known to usually be more responsible than that, taking blame for even mistakes that she only ASSUMED she had played some part in.

However, it was what Rosie had said about her being smart, and the way she said it, that really got her attention. When she spoke, her voice was stuttering badly, "W-w-wait, what!? I-I never said I know EVERYTHING! W-why would you say-?"

"You literally looked me IN THE EYE and said I should get out of the yards more when I teased you about how alike you and Thomas were." Rosie pointed out, "You know, when you said I needed glasses because I was bad at observation?"

"T-that wasn't me saying that I'm a know-it-all!"

"It sounded like that to me."

"I-it wasn't-!"

"SILENCE!" Sir Topham Hatt roared, causing both engines' mouths to snap shut, "I don't know what the devil is fully on going on here, but I DO know that there are TWO passenger trains which are very late right now, and there's no time to listen to you two ladies bicker like this!"

It was at that moment Thomas chose as his cue, and he quietly backed up and out of the siding. After looking over and confirming that Percy was still watching the scene, he quickly composed himself and headed casually over to the other side of the buildings as if he was just arriving.

Pretending to look surprised, he gasped as he pulled up next to Rosie, "Woah, everyone, wha- what happened here!?"

Sir Topham Hatt looked at him, still cross, "Nevermind that, Thomas! Where were you? Your coaches are already out here and YOUR run was scheduled to start nearly a half-hour ago!"

"Sorry, sir. I was delayed." Thomas apologized, "Percy asked me to help with some of his work, and I forgot to check the time."

At HIS excuse for being delayed, Emily scowled in his direction, her face turning from green to red with anger. Thomas ignored it.

"As much as I like you helping your fellow engines, TWO passenger trains being late to start is absolutely unacceptable- especially if they were were scheduled almost right next to each other." His controller scolded.

"What even happened here, sir?" Thomas asked, then looked at Emily, "Wait...Emily, what on earth are you doing? Playing roundabouts?" He looked her up and down, "I thought tender engines weren't supposed to-"

"Not that it's any of YOUR concern," He winced at her icy tone, "but this is Rosie's fault!"

"My fault!?" Rosie gawked.

"You lied to me!"

"I didn't lie. YOU didn't listen! I said certain engines-"

"Sir Topham Hatt literally just told you that wasn't the right message!"

"And, like I literally just said, I thought you would get it!"

"'Certain engines?'" Thomas pretended to think about it, "That screams 'tank engine' to me, personally."

"Don't even start!" Emily snapped, "I'm telling you, when Rosie lied-"

"I lied? I LIED!?" Rosie screeched, indignant, "I told you I DIDN'T-!"

"THAT. IS. ENOUGH! All of you!" Sir Topham Hatt's voice echoed, causing the three engines to tremble, "Thomas, Emily, get your coaches and GET TO THE STATION! NOW!" He held up a finger, "And I don't want to hear another complaint or argument out of either of you until you're both well away- or else. As for you, Rosie," He pointed to the coach shed, "Gordon's run is in a few minutes and I need his express out and waiting him."

"Yes, sir."

"And when you're done, I want you and Emily to meet me outside my office. It appears we need to all have a talk about how to properly relay my messages to one another," He turned to Emily, "as well as receive them."

"But I was liste-!" Emily sighed, relenting under his stern look, "Yes, sir."

"And Thomas," He pointed at his number one, casting him a warning gaze, "this is the second time you've caused trouble in two consecutive days- first you damage the turntable and now you're incredibly late. One more issue, a third strike, and I WILL have you grounded to the sheds for a week- no coaches, no branch line, and no moving whatsoever. Is that clear?"

Thomas nodded a solemn affirmative.

"Good. Now, off you go, all of you." With that, Sir Topham Hatt spun on his heel and marched away. For a short moment after he left, there was a dead silence in the area.

As he pulled Annie and Clarabel out of the siding, switched lines, and coupled up in front of Clarabel (He couldn't turn around to couple to Annie as usual), Thomas glanced at Emily. The Stirling was silently and shakenly backing up to her own coaches, her crew back aboard her cab. Seeing her grim expression, Thomas sighed, _Toby also said I have to be nice at times, too…._

"I'm sorry, Emily, really." He told her, speaking in a normal and kind tone, prompting her to look at him, "Everything else aside, though, are…are you okay?"

"Oh, she's fine. Shaken, but FINE." Rosie grumbled, rolling her eyes, "She's still...something."

Emily glared at her, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You got your just desserts and now you're pretty much asking for a second helping, that's what." Rosie returned the Stirling's look, "You'd think being trapped on a broken turntable would give you a change of attitude…."

"Rosie!" Thomas gave her a warning glance.

"What? It's the truth. Besides, you're not innocent either, Thomas." Getting the message, Rosie gave Thomas a dirty look before she glanced back at Emily, still laying into her, "Or, at least, that's what I HEARD. But then again, I apparently stay in the yards and listen to rumors too much, so…"

Emily's brow furrowed as she continued glaring coldly in her direction. Then, with another dirty look at Thomas, she silently puffed past them and away to the platform with her coaches.

Once she was gone, Thomas sternly looked at Rosie, "I was trying to be nice."

"I know," Rosie nodded, dropping the act, "but this wasn't YOUR idea. You weren't being the main bully here. I even hinted at her know-it-all attitude to boot."

Thomas considered it, then nodded, "Okay, but next time, don't bring up her changed personality so directly like that."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not familiar with what she was like before." Thomas looked around as he switched to a looping track that led to the station, but thankfully, the workmen were either too busy or too far away to listen, "The last thing we need is her getting suspicious. It's fine when I make hints to it, but if you keeping doing it yourself, then she'll no doubt make the connection and figure out that we're working together. For what, she might not know, but all she'll need is the conclusion about the two of us for the plan to be dead in the water."

"Oh yeah," Rosie sighed, "sorry." She looked back to where Emily had gone, "It looks like it worked, though."

"How can you tell? With every phase we do, she gets more angry at me, and now she's mad at you." Thomas frowned, "The end-goal is to get her to crack somehow, someway, but I don't see any signs of that happening."

Rosie's eyes widened, remembering something, "Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"...Nevermind. Just go and get your run over with." Rosie told him, puffing towards the shed to get Gordon's express coaches, "I'll meet you at the quarry this afternoon. I'll probably tell you then."

"We'll be there." Nodding, Thomas rushed away down the line, heading back to work.

Rosie watched him leave before getting back to work, but she didn't make it ten feet before what he said registered, "Wait...WE?"

…..

As soon as she was out of sight of the coach shed and making her way to the station, Emily's icy mask crumbled into an expression of confusion, sadness, and embarrassment. Thinking back to the past hour, and then the past two days, she could only ask herself one question, _What is happening?_

In the end, with her thoughts so scrambled from all of the chaos and confusion that had occurred over the past hour, all that she could piece together for the moment was that her passengers- many of them already so tired and grouchy in the morning- would NOT be happy with running late to their destinations. And with the talk she was going to have with Sir Topham Hatt afterwards, she feared that all of her other trains would also run late.

Briefly, she decided to wonder how her morning could get any worse….

 _FWOOT-FWOOT!_

...and immediately, she pleaded for the heavens that she took it back as one of the last engines she wanted to see- much less talk to, alone- that day suddenly puffed up next to her in the line to her left, out of breath. As red in the face as his paint was, James had obviously been seriously trying to catch up to her.

Not that Emily cared. Instead, she scowled at him, "What do YOU want?"

James looked at her, "Emily, I-I saw what happened. I was going to collect my freight from the shunting yards and-"

"And what?" Emily glared at him, hating him for seeing what had happened, hating everything that he was, "You thought you'd take a minute to laugh at me?"

"What? No!" James seemed surprised by her hostility, "I just-"

"I'm late, James," She interrupted, looking straight ahead as she increased her speed, trying to just get away from him, "and personally, I'm not really interested in hearing what you have to say."

"But I just wanted to know if you were alright!" James exclaimed.

"Oh really, so NOW you care about my feelings? That's a first. In fact, it's already rare that you would care about anyone's feelings rather than just your own." Emily seethed at him, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, though: Several other engines have suddenly decided to start not acting like themselves these past few days, so why not have you join in!?

"Emily, I-I-"

"No, I'm not alright, James!" Emily snapped. If he really wanted to know, then by the heavens above she GLADLY inform him, "After this, I'm starting to feel like everything I have left is falling around me. And now here you are, thinking you suddenly have the right to just come up to me and act all concerned?" She huffed, "I'm not falling for it."

"I'm acting concerned because I AM concerned." James protested, cringing, "The same thing happened to me in the past, with a turntable. I was just as embarrassed as you are. I wouldn't wish it on anyone…"

"Funny." Emily said, her voice dangerously quiet, "After everything, I was under the impression that I was an exception."

"After everything-" James' eyes widened, realizing what Emily was talking about, "Emily, listen, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't-"

"Save it, James. It's too late for you to just come up and say 'sorry.'" Emily said, still quiet, "I don't want to hear your excuses, or your self-justification for…all of it."

"I'm just trying to help." James said.

"You've done enough, more than enough, and I don't need any more of it. Not today, not ever." Emily glared at him, "Clear off. Now."

"Emily-"

"Go away, James." She repeated, "I mean it."

"But-"

"JAMES!" She yelled through grit teeth, making him jump, "Leave. Me. ALONE!"

Finally getting the message, James relented, slowing to a stop as Emily sped quickly away with her coaches in tow…

...but not quick enough that he didn't see the sparkle of a tear rolling down the Stirling's left cheek, causing the red engine to be filled with a deep sense of shame as the female engine disappeared around the bend.

 **Well, folks, here it is: The longest chapter of this story thus far and I have to say...I honestly have mixed feelings about it, so I will understand if you guys don't like it. To be honest, the ending section is the only part I really feel one-hundred percent about, but that's fine- a lot of us write stories like these to gain some writing experience, anyway, right?**

 **Believe me when I say it was a PAIN to finish and upload, what with classes and just life in general. It's honestly going to be awhile before I can get Chapter 5 up, but I assure you: I am NOT abandoning this story.**

 **But ANYWAY, it seems that the plot has thickened a bit, and in several important places: What will Percy think of the plan and seeing it in action? How much have Thomas and Rosie's behaviors truly affected Emily? Why is Emily so hostile towards James? Is he the sole reason she changed, a mere part of something larger, or could he possibly not be a real part of the problem at all? I WILL say one thing, though: Only one (and possibly a half) of those questions is going to be answered in the next chapter** **, because we are officially drifting away from Thomas for a moment and taking a bit of a closer look at things** **from the perspectives of James and Emily. I wouldn't brace myself just yet: We still have a bit of a ways to go before everything comes (hopefully) together.**

 **Until then, though, I hope you guys enjoyed. Bless you all.**


	5. Chapter 5A

**Chapter 5A: James- The Sea of Guilt**

Guilt.

The word was practically synonymous with words like 'demon' or 'disease', and for good reason. Since the very beginning of time, guilt was an emotion that was never originally meant to exist, only to end up existing throughout the majority of history for both humans and, in later and more recent decades, engines. It was just like an possessive demon or even a parasite, entering a host and feeding off of them for its own purposes, but with a major difference. While most parasites did their best to keep their host alive and relatively healthy until the right moment that it could survive on its own, guilt could not survive on its own at all and instead preferred to break its host down until nothing was left but a complete mess.

"How does it do so?" One might ask.

The most effective way was by hitting the host with reality checks, memories, anything to continuously and mercilessly assault them, showing them the worst things that had ever happened to someone- things that they had done to themselves or someone close to them. Then, like a uncomfortable whisper in their ear, it would keep reminding them, "YOU did this. This is all YOUR fault."

Many times throughout history, guilt had been misidentified with regret and remorse. Many who experienced both knew what the true distinction was: Unlike remorse, guilt at its worst left one feeling completely hopeless, giving them a sense that there is no way they can undo or fix what they had done- and made the host feel like there is no way to either atone or repent.

On islands like Sodor, the most common analogy to describe the parasitic emotion was related, like many things, to sailing: Upon destroying the boat that was one's relative satisfaction and comfort in life, guilt plunged one into an vast, bottomless ocean of murky water, with not a single rock to be seen for miles- rocks of hope that could lead to guilt becoming remorse, which in turn would motivate them to overcome their situation. Some could remain a bit more optimistic without the rocks, treading water with familiarity after being plunged into that ocean the first time and then several times afterward, but eventually their energy would run out and then they would finally drown.

And when they drowned, who knew what they would then do, particularly to themselves.

…..

If suffering from guilt could be considered a war, James figured that he was a veteran- he had experienced being forced into that bottomless ocean a few times before, but up until relatively recently had always found a way to turn that guilt into the safety of remorse, with thanks in particular to Thomas, Percy, and Edward. Of course, considering his past- an on-and-off reputation as a troublemaker- his campaigns with the emotion couldn't be considered much of an achievement from other perspectives. A lot of other engines would probably tell him that he deserved to feel guilty for things he had done, and if he was honest, they were probably right.

And if they knew the reason that it plagued him currently…

He shivered at the thought.

However, he couldn't afford to just sit around and take a long moment to compose himself and get his mind together. There was another thing about guilt, another of its cruel tricks, and that was he couldn't use it as an excuse to put off working- even if it was really getting to him to the point where he felt sick. Most others would only demand to know what he had done if he said he felt too guilty about something to work. Therefore, after Emily had disappeared around the bend, the only thing James could do next was sadly go back to the shunting yards and fetch his waiting five-car freight train to take to the docks.

The trip to Brendam was a journey that the red engine had made hundreds of times before, but as he went this time, the Stirling's words continued to echo in his mind: _"After this, I'm starting to feel like everything I have left is falling around me. And now here you are, thinking you suddenly have the right to just come up to me and act all concerned?"_

 _She's right._ James sighed to himself, _Why DID you think you could just go over and comfort her? Because you suffered the same many years ago? You KNEW she wouldn't talk to you, you empty-funneled oaf, at least not like a friend she could lean on. Why do you bother? There's no point in even trying to ACT like you two are real friends…_

And then, of course, there had been her scream.

" _Leave. Me. ALONE!"_

James winced, the words bouncing around in his smokebox as if they had just been repeated out loud, and he remembered how utterly PAINED Emily's tone had been when she said them. Accusation, misery, and hate for everything and everyone in her line of sight had been present in the Stirling's eyes when she had glared over at him. They had been spoken with despair, as if they were the only words left that she could hope would have an effect, as if all other avenues had been closed off a long time ago.

And he knew they were justified words- so, entirely justified.

He sniffed, despite himself, then scowled, _No! Don't cry. Crying won't help anything._

 _You might as well, because at the same time, you might as well face it._ His guilt-infected mind said, _At this stage, you couldn't help even if you really wanted to._

 _What!? Maybe there's nothing I can do, true, but I DO want to help! I've been wanting to help for so long now..._

 _Oh really? Because you really hated seeing her like that?_ His mind seemed to sneer, _Or because you just want to feel better about yourself?_

"James?"

Before he could even think of an answer for himself, the red engine was startled from his thoughts by a nearby voice. He quickly looked around, but didn't immediately see anyone travelling next to him, "Huh?"

"Behind you." The voice said, and it was then that James recognized it as Toby's, confirmed even more when his friend rang his bell, "Do you think you could go just a bit faster?"

"Faster? What do you-?" He looked around him again, only to realize that in the middle of his thoughts, he had slowed down considerably and was holding up traffic, "Oh. Sorry, Toby!"

"That's alright. In fact, hang on a moment…" The next signal-box and points quickly passed by, and a minute later, Toby appeared puffing alongside James with yet another milk delivery behind him and a grin on his face, "See? No confusion caused- unlike what Thomas did to that turntable, of course."

"Yeah…" James looked away, frowning at the mention of the previous day's accident, "So...you know about it? It's really the talk of the island?"

"Our part of the island at least, but I wouldn't be surprised if I go to the Little Western tomorrow and find Oliver having flashbacks. EVERYTHING Thomas does becomes talk of the whole island, eventually." His friend laughed, "Do I need to remind you of the day before we went to the big city that one time? Or better yet, how about when the cleaner accidentally knocked his throttle and sent him straight into the stationmaster's house just in time for breakfast? Oh, oh, or how about-?"

"Okay, okay, I get it." James mumbled, frowning.

Toby's grin fell, "James...what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Toby." He automatically answered, on instinct, "I'm fine."

"You don't seem fine. You usually laugh when I bring up Thomas's past stunts."

"Well, I'm as fine as I can get right now, and talking about Thomas is not helping to keep it that way, much less improve it." The red engine glared at the steam tram, frustrated, "After all, I recently watched Emily suffer playing a game of roundabouts because of his little attempt at a prank gone wrong. I couldn't be more 'fine' even if I wanted to."

"Roundabouts?" Toby raised an eyebrow, but then his eyes widened, "No...Y-you mean like-!?"

"Yeah." James grumbled, his gaze softening, "I didn't hear much, I was some distance on the other side of the yards, but from what I was hearing, they were trying to stop her from getting on the turntable, Rosie and the workmen. I guess she somehow didn't get the message that it was unusable for larger engines, or something like that?"

"I wouldn't know." Toby said, "I wasn't warned about that, but then again, I don't normally work in those yards."

"Good point." James looked down, "Despite the distance, I still saw what had happened, clear as day: She got trapped on it, it spun her like a top, and...you heard how I ended up when it happened to me." He sighed, "Like I said, I didn't hear much, but it seemed like she and Rosie were arguing about something just before it happened…"

Toby's brow furrowed, "That's...that's...I actually don't know what to think about that. Did you see what happened afterwards?"

"No. I had pushed it with my schedule enough just watching as they tried to stop the turntable. When they did, I HAD to go and check on my train, but there's no doubt that Sir Topham Hatt is going to be cross with her later if he didn't appear then." He paused, shivering a bit as he remembered Emily's cries for help from the table, cries that couldn't be answered, "I saw Emily leaving with her coaches a short while later, and caught up with her, but…"

"She wouldn't talk to you?"

James shook himself 'no', hoping Toby wouldn't ask any more. He didn't want to go into the details of THAT chat, "Overall...I think that was just horrible, plain and simple."

"...You blame Thomas, don't you?"

"Yes? No? I'm not sure." The red engine groaned, "I mean, yeah, he pretty much set her up for that, but then again, what happened yesterday was an accident. It's not like he PLANNED the whole thing, right? Thomas wouldn't wish that sort of thing on anyone, much less plot for it to happen. He's not like that...I don't think..."

James didn't see it, still looking away from Toby, but if he had been looking at his friend, he would've seen the tram briefly bite his lower lip.

He huffed, angrily, "Regardless, I don't believe she- No, I KNOW Emily didn't deserve that."

"No...no, she did not." Toby agreed, "No one deserves that any more or less than one deserves to be bullied by a bossy boiler- even if the engine on the table IS one..."

James looked back at him, and the negative emotion seemed to return with triple its original strength at the tram's mention of bossy boilers. The red engine was more aware of the Stirling's change in personality than anyone, specifically the why, and the guilt flooded through him every time he thought of how it affected those that she was once the closest to or who wanted to be her friends. And through it all, all James could think to himself was how much at fault he was for all of that suffering- especially when he had passed by the Little Western several months earlier and heard part of what Duck was saying to Oliver: "There's two ways of doing things, and she's done too much of the wrong way for me to even consider her an ACQUAINTANCE anymore…"

Now things had become slightly more chaotic, and James wanted desperately to go back in time to prevent any of it from happening, _But I can't...but…_ He grit his teeth, _AGH, come on, I'm TIRED of feeling like this, Emily's acting like she does, everyone suffering, all of it! I can't just do NOTHING! There's gotta be a way to fix things and just PUT THIS TO REST, right!?_

 _Nothing is all you CAN do, you steam-for-brains._ His mind chided, _You blew your chances before they even EXISTED._

 _Shut up!_

 _It's true, though. Like Emily said, you can't just step right up and think you have the right to fix things. And you know that you're also scared of the consequences you'll recieve if you do. Face it,_ His mind shrugged, _trouble and your self-image seem to be the only thing you're good at maintaining._

James sighed. He was getting nowhere within himself. He knew that he couldn't fight the guilt, at least not yet, because he had no idea how to get out of the water this time. At the same time, though, he was tired- tired of holding it all in and keeping it to himself. Like so many other times before, the thoughts in his smokebox swelled like a hot-air balloon stuffed into his funnel- and still inflating, _It's too much, this guilt._ _I just..can't take it anymore!_

BUT, on the other wheel, his mind was right: He didn't want to suffer the consequences.

 _I need to tell someone,_ James scowled at his own cowardice, _yet I can't tell anyone._

"James," Next to him, Toby was again studying him with concern, "are you sure there's nothing wrong? You REALLY don't seem like yourself right now, and it can't be just because of what you saw happen to Emily."

 _Oh, you would be SURPRISED._ James opened his mouth to insist that he was fine, but then closed it, _Wait...Maybe...We've all done things we aren't proud of, and Toby's must've been somewhere close to my position before…._

With a silent prayer, he spoke up in answer, "Actually, Toby...can I ask you something?"

"I'm listening."

James hesitated, "Do you ever feel...guilty about something, like, REALLY guilty?"

"What did you do this time, James?" Toby deadpanned, as expected.

"Nothing I can say to you," The red engine looked pointedly at him, "but something I need to say to someone."

Toby looked him over, his stern expression morphing to one of sympathy as realized what his fellow engine was asking, "Is it...really that bad this time?"

James nodded.

The steam tram hummed in thought, "Well, I've never really been in your position, personally, and I don't really care to, just so you know- whatever it is that you did." At James' understanding nod, Toby continued, "I've done some bad things but...I DO know a few ways that people...confess." He looked back at him, "That's what you kinda want, isn't it? To confess something?"

Another nod from James, but the red engine made sure to clarify, "It's...something I can't tell anyone else, though…"

"Well, a lot of humans tend to go to a church or something, because priests or certain other people they talk to tend to promise secrecy for a lot of things. Maybe it doesn't really fix anything, but it at least helps them get it off their chest." He smiled, "Mavis doesn't like a lot of my secrets, especially when confusion and delay is involved, but she keeps them anyway if she can't convince me to talk to Sir Topham Hatt. It's sort of like THAT, if you want a second picture."

James perked up a bit. Now THERE was an idea.

Yes...that was something he could do. If he couldn't find a rock of redemption to get him out of the guilt-sea, the least he could do was get more energy to keep treading water, and that was by doing as Toby suggested and telling somebody who could keep a secret. That way, he wouldn't get in trouble- yet- and he could finally get it out of his boiler. Naturally, James was too big and too stuck to rails to go to a church and speak to a preacher in private, but he figured there might be an engine who'd be willing to listen.

The perfect compromise.

There was only one problem: James had no idea who that understanding engine could be, if there even was an engine like that on Sodor. Because Emily was the center of all his guilt, he knew that he couldn't tell Toby because the tram and Percy both had suffered an accident because of her, and would most likely erupt at anything the red engine revealed. Thomas was out of the picture, too, as he couldn't even run his branch line in peace without a lecture from the Stirling- his reaction would be even worse. Edward was a possibility, but as nice and understanding as he was, Sodor's Number Two was also the most communicative with Sir Topham Hatt on serious issues among the engines and James knew that, like a police officer, what he said would be reported immediately.

 _There has to be someone, though! Think, James…_ He wracked his mind for something, anything, even just a simple name, _It'd pretty much have to be someone who keeps to themselves and doesn't gossip, but who-_

All at once, James had his answer as a name slammed into his funnel like a brick. It was the name of an engine was quiet, rational, and would be willing to listen to the whole story-

-but it was a name that James had hoped he wouldn't come up with- he hadn't even wanted to CONSIDER the owner of it. The engine he was thinking of wasn't a bad engine by any means, far from it, but he knew that talking to that engine was still a huge risk, and that Sir Topham Hatt would probably be bringing the gavel down on him the next morning as a result, the same as if he had told Edward or anyone else.

After all, this engine would have every reason to hate him because of Emily's behavior just like any other. Maybe more.

And yet...with how the guilt was weighing on him, James couldn't think of any other option except to take that risk. He was just afraid that, if his controller and closest friends were to find out….

 _You're James the Red Engine, Sodor's Number Five._ The tiny, unpoisoned part of his mind encouraged. _Risk-taking is your specialty, darn it!_

"Toby," Determined, he cleared his throat, speaking carefully, "do you...have any work to do this evening?"

"No, I was only planning on heading back to my shed to rest up. Mavis didn't need much help at the quarry today, just a train of heavy stone for this afternoon, but tomorrow is going to be a different story." Toby explained, suspicious, "Why?"

"I…" Not wanting to give too much away, James cleared his throat and answered in a neutral tone, "I'm scheduled for a slow goods train from the docks to the village, and...I just realized that there's somewhere I want- NEED- to be this evening. If it's not too much of a bother, can you take it for me?"

"What's this? James the splendid red engine asking a poor old steam tram like me to do his work for him?" Toby grinned.

"Yeah, very funny, you know you always act like you were built just yesterday, so don't pull that 'too old' act." James scoffed, "Besides...I'd owe you one."

"Hmm, I like the sound of that, you owing me…" Toby laughed at James' pleading look, "Okay, okay, you got it. Don't worry, James, I'm always happy to help. Besides," The tram looked him up and down, "you seem like you've got a lot on your mind as it is. Whatever you've done, I honestly hope it works out for you."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew what it was."

"You're probably right, so while we're still friends, I'll be happy to have deniability for you ." Toby chuckled.

" _While we're still friends.'_ James inwardly gulped at that sentence. He knew the tram was joking, but still, he knew his friend had touched on a very serious point. Outwardly, though, he gave Toby a relieved smile, "Thanks, Toby. You're a real friend."

 _Unlike me._

"Not a problem." The other engine nodded, then looked off to the side at a rapidly-approaching junction, "Oh! Here's my shortcut to the dairy. See you later, James."

"See you, Toby, and...and thanks again."

….

Most people would assume that because plenty of their working areas were near places with a lot of activity and sometimes loud industrial-grade machinery, it was highly improbable to find an engine, either steam or diesel, who didn't like a lot of noise. What's more, the steam engines in particular emitted a lot of sounds on their own, whether it was from whistling or coupling rods or even their pistons pumping- living noisemakers- so in the very least, the assumption was that they were all used to it. Most of their sheds were even built in loud places, such as near a busy town or in the middle of a particularly-active trainyard.

However, if any of those people were to directly ask any engine on Sodor that day about it, all of the engines would simply let out a good-natured laugh and ask the same thing:

"I take it you haven't met Molly yet?"

It would've sounded knowingly humorous, even to her, but it was true. Ever since she was built, Molly was sensitive to noise and never quite got used to it, though she and the engineering crew who had built her could never figure out why this was the case. Knowing that she was already an unusually shy and timid sort of engine, her inventor had come to the conclusion that it was probably just another part of her unique personality. She was then was promised that if she couldn't find a way to overcome it herself at home, then arrangements would be made to give her a more comfortable working environment.

Sure enough, when the yellow engine had tried working in such loud conditions- her first railway being close to a large city- the controller there had been quick to notice how much the constant noise and activity was negatively affecting the quality of her work and overall productivity with freight trains and passenger coaches, which brought a lot of complaints from passengers and resulted in her feeling really depressed, thinking that she a was defective engine. However, both her inventor and her controller made good on their promise to the yellow engine, and had in time contacted Sir Topham Hatt, who agreed to purchase Molly and move her to Sodor where she would have a better time and possibly make better friends.

It was a good change. The island had its loud places like anywhere else in the world, but had a smaller railway with large stretches of both inhabited and uninhabited countryside in between those places. At the same time, though, it was also still one of the busiest railways in that part of the

world as well, so no matter how large the increasing population of engines working on it was, there were also many diverse jobs that could be assigned to them. With this luxury at hand, Sir Topham Hatt was more than happy to give Molly tasks that she would be the best at based on her personality- brief trips to and from the coaling plant, passenger trains between the more-rural stations, slow goods; and even pulling the Flying Kipper for Henry sometimes, due to the coastal route being quite serene in the evening. It all added up to an average amount of hard work that most of the other standard-gauge engines went though every day, too, so she never felt like she was being treated as too much of a special case- she didn't want to fade into the background and feared that happening, but neither did she want to make it seem to other engines like she was getting treated as a favorite.

Throughout it all, the yellow engine also became a bit more adapted to not-so-silent environments, mainly the coaling plant and its heavy, humming contraptions, but she was still the most at home near Sodor's less-inhabited areas in the villages and countryside

Sir Topham Hatt even had a shed built for her: a two-berth, brick building in the woods not too far from Wellsworth Station where she also sometimes helped Edward to shunt trains. Being an introvert, Molly always appreciated it, her shed being somewhere where she could be alone, rest, and recenter herself away from others after a really long day.

And after that day- three passenger trains, picking up the processed milk delivery that Toby delivered earlier from the nearby farms, and even bringing a few flatbeds loaded with steel from the foundry to the harbor- the yellow engine couldn't imagine anything better to do than recharge herself for the next day as she settled herself on the small turntable and let her driver spin her around. Backing into the shed, she sighed with contentment as her tender met the buffers that were set against the back wall.

Her driver and fireman wordlessly shut off her working steam before climbing down from her cab, brushing off coal dust that had gathered on their clothes.

"Ugh," Her driver scowled at himself, then at his partner, "how the heck did I get this dirty today?"

"Must've been all the coal dust." The other man grinned.

"All the coa-? How much bloody coal did you shovel into her firebox?"

"No more than usual, mate, so don't worry about it. Besides, it's not like we can't take a bath or do our laundry." Her fireman laughed, then looked over at their engine, "Good work today, Molly."

"Yes, good work." The driver said, smiling widely, "Same time tomorrow?"

"Considering we all have to work together, every single day," Molly rolled her eyes, though she smiled too, "that sounds perfect."

The two men laughed, and then bid her goodnight as they walked away, headed towards home, "Goodnight, Molly."

"Goodnight. See you two tomorrow." She answered, then listened as their footsteps faded away into the night.

Now entirely alone and comfortable in her home, Molly closed her eyes and- for the longest, uninterrupted moment of that day- settled in to listen to the quiet, soothing sounds of the nighttime wildlife. She may have hated loud noises, but the sounds of nature were to her like a melody trying to lull her to sleep.

The light flap of wings indicated bats flying out, searching for bugs to eat.

The hoot of an owl sounded in a tree not too far away.

The chorus of crickets never ceased.

Oh, and was that the sound of-?

 _FWOOT!_

-her moment alone coming to an abrupt end, apparently. The yellow engine jumped, her eyes snapping open as another engine's whistle signalled their approach, rudely breaking the silence around the shed.

 _FWOOT!_

 _James…?_ Recognizing the whistle, Molly smiled as she then heard the sounds of him coming closer, but internally she was really confused, _What on earth is he doing here?_

A minute later, the red engine appeared from between the trees. With a nervous smile, he nodded to her, "Good evening, Molly."

"Hello, James." Molly returned the greeting with natural kindness, "What brings you here?"

"Oh, I…uh…" Struggling to hold his smile in place, he tried to come up with an explanation, "Well, I was...in the neighborhood, and I thought, 'Gee, Molly doesn't seem to get many visitors. Maybe I should see what she's up to.'"

The yellow engine's smile widened into an amused grin, "Yeah….sure, that sounds REALLY believable."

"I-it's true, though!" James stammered, his face flushing as red as his paint, "I mean...don't you like visitors?"

Despite her introverted nature, Molly could actually be very social towards others if given the chance. But, while she DID like visitors, her shed was still her most cherished place to spend her time alone. However, she was nice enough to be hospitable either way, not wanting to offend anyone who decided to drop by and chat for a bit.

 _Besides,_ She fought the urge to blush as she briefly looked James up and down, _it's James…._

"Uh, Molly?"

"Huh?" She snapped out of her thoughts to see James still waiting for her to answer his question, and she cleared her throat, speaking quickly, "N-no, I actually LOVE it when you guys come over, but..uh..ahem," She looked at him, pointedly, "you all usually don't visit me so late in evening just when I'm about to get some sleep."

"Oh, I-I'm so sorry, Molly." James gulped, starting to reverse away, "If this is a bad time, I'll-"

"No, no, come back, James." She told him, then gestured with her eyes at the empty berth next to her, "Please...make yourself comfortable. I'm tired, it's been a long day, but you're more than welcome to stay for a bit."

"Really?" He asked, hopefully, and then grinned when she nodded, "Thanks, Molly."

"No problem. I will warn you, though," She yawned, despite herself, "I'm usually not very talkative when I'm tired."

"That's fine." He assured her.

Accepting the invitation, James rolled onto the turntable and had his own driver spin him around to the empty spot, where he backed in next to Molly.

He looked over at her, "So…"

Molly giggled, "So...what REALLY brings you here, James. Even when I do get visitors," She paused, "you don't really come here that often."

All at once, James' whole demeanor fell several pegs. As soon as Molly asked that question, she watched with surprise as he went from nervous to downright miserable. His eyes were cast almost straight down at his buffer-bar, and his expression seemed to become the very definition of gloomy.

She immediately became concerned, "James...what's wrong?"

"I…I-" At his hesitation, James muttered a curse under his breath, only to wince as she glared at him, "Sorry for the language, it's just...I was so sure this would be easy, but now that I'm actually here, I'm...I'm not sure how to…Ugh, this was a mistake-"

"James," Molly let him see her understanding expression, "it's okay. Take your time. If the words don't come easily to you at first, give them a chance to form. There's no rush."

"Okay…" He took a deep breath, remaining silent for a few minutes before speaking, "Molly, there's something...that's been on my mind lately. Well, a LOT of things, really, and...I can't hold them in anymore. I need...I know that you might not like hearing it, but I...I need to tell SOMEBODY." He paused, "Can you keep a secret?"

She nodded, immediately, though her look told him that she was more than a little bit worried about what he might've had on his mind, "Well...yes, of course I can keep a secret, James, but...what kind of secret are we talking about here? Is something wrong?"

"I…" James looked down, ashamed, "I have a...confession to make."

"You mean as in you DID something wrong? That sort of confession?"

When he nodded, she suddenly felt unsure of what he wanted from her. Like any engine, Molly was more than familiar with James' tendency to create trouble for either himself or others, but unlike other engines, she found that she really couldn't be mad at him too much for it. Yes, he was vain and sometimes self-righteous, but his heart was usually in the right place, so to speak. At the same time, though, she truly preferred to keep her distance from whatever chaos he caused. She liked him, but she really didn't want to be pulled into something that would most likely blow up in their faces, landing them both in trouble. If James preferred to cause trouble, she preferred to have deniability towards whatever her friend was up to, thank you very much.

She was tempted to (politely, of course) explain that she didn't want to be involved this time, either, especially since whatever he had done seemed to really be getting him down. When James opened his eyes and looked at her with a hopeful, fearful expression, however, she found the words stuck in her throat. James rarely- RARELY- wore that look on his face.

 _Whatever it is, it's really eating at him like rust...Besides, it's just a confession he wants to clear from his smokebox, not a recruitment into something._ Her mind assured her, additionally, _It's almost like if I don't listen to him now, he might have a meltdown..._

After a minute, she sighed, "I suppose I can listen, but...why did you come to ME with this?"

"...Ever since we became friends, listening has just...been one of the several things you're always good at, every time we've worked together- better than me, at least. You're patient, kind, and...even if you do judge others for what they've done, you don't SHUN them- not right away, anyway." He looked her in the eye, "You also don't gossip, and...this is something I can't bear others finding out right now."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Yes." He nodded, "I didn't want to even tell you at first."

Now Molly couldn't deny the hint of curiosity she felt: What was so bad that James the Red Engine, of all people, absolutely HAD to tell someone who could also keep it a secret, yet didn't even initially want to say to even her despite her kindness? What kind of trouble, and how much of it, could a red-painted tender engine really get into all at once? And like he said he had feared, did she even WANT to find out?

No, not really. But as she considered it all for a second, including how much the other tender engine appeared to trust her in order to come to her with it, She sighed and then finally nodded, "Okay. I'm listening."

"Thank you." James took a deep breath, then asked, "Molly, what do you think of Emily?"

"Emily?"

"Yes. You know, Emily the Stirling Engine, the engine who-"

"-made fun of me for pulling empty freight cars on my first day here." She deadpanned, "James, Sodor's a small island- EVERYONE knows EVERYONE on this railway."

"Right. Sorry. Anyway…?" He waited for her answer.

"Well," She responded, slowly, "I can't say my opinion of her is very high, but...perhaps it's a bit higher than Edward's." She nodded to herself, "While we were shunting one time, maybe a few months ago, he called her 'shamefully lost potential.'"

"But your opinion is HIGHER than that?" James blinked, surprised, "Considering what she did to you, though, what even IS your opinion?"

"...It was humiliating, hearing her laugh at me. I was so excited to come to Sodor, start a new life away from the city where I used to live and work, and I figured- because this railway is smaller- that I could easily find at least ONE good friend here. I did, of course, with you, Rosie and Thomas, but…Emily is a female tender engine like me." She looked at James, "No offense, of course, I think you all are wonderful-"

"That's alright." James reassured her.

"-but Emily...she's...she seemed like an engine I could relate to the most. Rosie is nice, but she's a tank engine, and you're sweet, but you're male. There weren't many other female engines like me where I used to live- mostly my sisters, and they were all so...outgoing that I couldn't relate to them. When Sir Topham Hatt described that his railway had 'a Stirling Single Tender who was kind, thoughtful, and hardworking' to me, it seemed so close to my personality that I was so excited to be sent here. At the the time, I thought, 'Who knows, maybe I'll meet her and we can become best friends.'" Molly shook herself, banishing the flashback of her first day, "No offense to Sir Topham Hatt, but I think his description was...outdated, in retrospect. He got the hardworking part about Emily right, but...not much else. I can honestly say that...being ashamed of my first-ever job on Sodor reminded me too much of my poor performance on the mainland." She frowned, "She shamed me, the one engine I thought I could relate to the most, and what's worse is that Thomas told me she wasn't always like that, so if I had arrived a few years earlier..."

James winced.

Then, despite herself, she smiled, "And yet…"

"And yet…?"

She looked over at him, "I can't be too mad at her."

"WHAT?" James was so shocked, his jaw hung slack.

"It's true." She giggled, again despite herself, "I actually can't bring myself to hold a grudge or hate her no matter what. I don't really know why. Maybe my inventor's Christian faith rubbed off on me? Maybe I just moved past the point of being angry?" She paused, still smiling, "I really can't say, except...I really wish I could know more about her, about why she is like she is." She finally frowned, "But no matter how many times I've tried to approach her while she was at the coaling plant or Wellsworth, it just seems that being a big bossy buffers is all she knows how to act like. Last I heard from Rosie, she wasn't doing much better with her, either."

"'Act like?'" James asked in disbelief, staring at her, "You think she's just ACTING?"

Molly grinned, "I said our controller's description was OUTDATED, not completely FALSE. Sir Topham Hatt hasn't really given me any reason to think he doesn't really know our true personalities, and a controller like him would have to know us personally to SOME degree in order to keep this railway running, right? I mean, look at this shed, here in the woods where there's peace and quiet- overall, the perfect place for me to sleep. Call me overly-optimistic, but I get the strangest feeling that, deep down, somewhere in her is the Emily that he described to me back then, that Thomas described to me later. How to get that her to come out and play, though…" She sighed, "that's the real question."

James sighed as well, "Molly, I...I hate to break it to you, and I know this might be hard for you to hear, but...you're holding out hope for nothing. Edward is right, and Duck has the same opinion: The Emily that Sir Topham Hatt described to you, the Emily we all knew before you and Rosie and others moved here...she's gone."

"James-"

"I mean it, Molly," James persisted, scowling to himself, "there's zip, zilch, and nada left of the real Emily. The engine you see...THAT'S the real Emily, now. Even if there is anything left, it's quickly fading."

She scowled as well, a bit offended by his pessimistic attitude, "What makes you so sure? Neither of us knows what's going on in her mind."

"I do."

"Huh?" Molly raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, so I don't know her EXACT thoughts, but I know why she's like...like she is now." James looked away.

"You do?" Putting the pieces of their conversation together in her smokebox, Molly's eyes suddenly widened, her determined mood withering slightly, "Wait...your confession...you mean…?"

"...Another reason I finally decided to come to you was because...I'm sure I won't be forgiven for this, but for what it's worth," James closed his eyes, "I wanted to apologize to you, for her being so mean when you moved here."

There was a pause. A bad feeling started to well up in Molly's boiler as she finally realized exactly WHAT the red engine next to her was both saying and implying- and confessing. She could honestly say that she had never before wanted so badly to ask if this was a really poor joke of his, but the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes were all-too real to be an act.

Quickly, that bad feeling quickly turned to a chill running along her length, from the back of her tender to her funnel, and she felt...afraid.

It was the fear of just then figuring out a terrible truth about someone you had loved for so long.

Slowly, she puffed onto the turntable and signalled to James' driver to turn her around. He did so, and as soon as she was face-to-face with James, she rolled up to him and pressed her buffers to his, giving him a stern look.

"James," She spoke, putting an assertive edge in her tone that faltered. She didn't want to ask, but she knew that she had to, "what did you do to Emily?"

The red engine started to tremble slightly, but upon seeing the insistent look in her eyes, he slowly leaned forward- close enough that their noses were almost touching- and began to whisper to her.

He whispered EVERYTHING.

In that time, Molly started to tremble as he poured out everything he was holding inside, and the cold feeling began to grow stronger with every single word- every story- that he uttered.

The yellow engine would never admit it, but despite not wanting to be involved in any trouble he caused, they had worked well many times together and grown so close that her friendship with James had become very special to her- so much so that, secretly, she had over time developed feelings for him that were beyond friendship. They soon ended up more like what Toby and Mavis had for each other as she managed to glimpse the engine beneath the troublemaking persona he carried, to the point where she would be happy to work with him and overjoyed during the few times that he had visited her like that night. However, she never felt that she could open up to him about those feelings, and she never told anyone who might risk telling him.

To Molly, James the Red Engine had become- in her eyes- a troublemaker who still had charm and a good heart. Until that night, she would never have imagined he had played such a huge role in something so...horrible.

But now? Now it was suddenly a very frightening reality- and it made her feel a bit sick.

At last, James had spoken everything he could, and he backed away from Molly. His movement prompted her to look up at him, and for the longest time, neither engine could find the will to speak. They could only stare at one another, one with an expression of utter shock while the other one braced himself for whatever consequences he would suffer from her.

"Why…" Molly's voice was so quiet, her mouth's movement was the only indication to James that she had even spoken that first word, "James...how could you?"

James didn't answer.

She buffered to him again, desperately searching his face for an answer, a feeling of shock and betrayal coursing through her like blood, "How could you? Why…what…" She gulped, trying to put her words together, "What. Have. You. DONE?"

"What have I done?" James seemed like he was about to cry, "WHAT HAVE I DONE!? Let's see: I helped ruined an engine's life, I helped to make her feel like a pile of scrap, and I helped cause her to change in a way that ruined her friendships and the reputation that she tried building for herself." He sobbed, clenching his eyes shut, "Yeah...that sounds about right…!"

With that, the red engine broke down completely, tears flowing down his cheeks and his sobs completely unrestrained.

Molly was conflicted, she knew that much. The engine she had taken such a liking to, the engine she thought would never let himself cross important lines even when he was in the cheeky and troublesome sort of mood, had just confessed to her about his crossing of one of the most delicate lines of all.

A line where not only Emily, but both Rosie and herself as well, could all be considered victims.

She knew she should've been mad, maybe downright LIVID with James for what he had said and done, and she even had the RIGHT to be. In fact, she wordlessly tried hard in that moment to even work up the anger necessary to give him a piece of her mind and then leave to report his actions to Sir Topham Hatt. Unfortunately, while she could definitely be assertive and stand up for others when need-be, total anger- even if it was towards something really offensive to her- was never something that the yellow engine was good at accomplishing. She had learned all-too well from observation that unleashing on someone never really fixed a problem, and it had become a habitual part of her already-forgiving personality that had admittedly prevented her from lashing out too much when Emily had been bullying her.

On top of that, it was impossible for anger to gain ground when there was another engine who was sad and crying right in front of her. As bad as James had been, Molly's more-maternal side still shifted itself into gear, prompting her to take action.

Slowly, gently, she buffered to him again and pressed their noses together as he continued to cry. James startled a bit, opening his eyes half-way to look at her with surprise, but at Molly's soft expression, he sniffed and pressed closer to her, "I...I…"

"Hush." Molly whispered, nuzzling him in a friendly way, "Don't speak."

"But-"

"James," She gazed at him, firmly, "just let it all out."

Closing his eyes again, James bit back his sobs but continued to let his tears flow. In seconds, the puddle on his buffer bar grew in size until it was practically dripping over the side. A few teardrops even landed on Molly's own bar, but she said nothing and continued to nuzzle and hold James closely to her, hushing him softly, "Shh…"

Off to the side, James' crew stood silently as they watched the scene. Guilt- not as bad as James'- was etched into their features as they watched their engine cry. Slowly, his fireman even removed his hat and crossed himself. His driver just bowed his head, his shoulders drooping.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the red engines' guilt-fueled crying finally died down, and all that remained was him trying to take deep breaths and compose himself again. When he nodded as a signal, it was only then that Molly backed away from him, still keeping their buffers pressed together.

"Do you feel any better?" She asked.

"No." James mumbled, "I...I think I still needed that, though."

"I figured."

He looked up at her, no doubt trying to search her expression for any signs of hate or even just simple anger. Of course, as she already knew, he found none because Molly felt none- she could never really hate anyone.

She did, however, feel deeply disheartened by his revelations.

"James," She spoke, keeping the firm edge in her voice, letting him know that he should be listening, "I don't think words can express how...completely disappointed I am in you right now. I always viewed you as cheeky, like Thomas but with a larger ego, and never...like THAT. Your heart was always in a good place, but from what I'm hearing," She gazed at him, "all of that just seems like a flat-out LIE. Was I wrong to trust you when we met?"

"No, when we met and...before this...all of that was fine." James answered, honestly, "That year or so in between, though…"

"So...you've been carrying this weight since long before I came here." Molly felt internally relieved by that fact, but that relief faded when she thought of Emily, "And yet...you haven't done anything about it until now?"

"What could I do, Molly?" James asked, "Emily won't even speak to me. Before, we could act like friends in public when we're unfortunate enough to be near each other, but even THAT'S not possible right now, not after what happened today and the other night."

"What happened?" Molly, having been out of the loop about of the goings-on around the Tidmouth and Knapford area for the past three days, listened as James took a minute to fill her in. When he explained the turntable fiasco, her eyes widened, "Oh dear…"

"I want to be mad at Thomas for that flipping turntable stunt," James groaned, "but it was just an accident. I want to be mad at whoever didn't give her the message not to go on that table, but I don't know who it was that was supposed to. Rosie, maybe? I don't know." He looked down, "I can only blame myself for a lot of it."

"And you should." Molly agreed. She hated to have to talk to him like that, but not even love would allow her to fully let what he had done go, "But none of that means you can't do anything to at least RESOLVE this."

"I can't."

"You CAN." She corrected, "You could easily speak up and this might all end."

"Okay, say I just come out and admit to everyone that I'm one large part of the reason Emily became a bossy boiler, what would happen?" James theorized, "Even if I'm not the sole offender here, I will lose everything, every bit of the reputation and status I've built- even the bits that I got honestly without any hint of pride: my coaches, my passengers, what responsibilities and privileges Sir Topham Hatt doesn't take away will not be enough to stay and work on Sodor. I'll practically be banished from the island because I'm not useful enough, and…" Fear entered his eyes, "maybe I WILL deserve it."

"Then why can't you do it?" Molly raised an eyebrow, hating the idea of him leaving but not quite understanding his logic, "You know you have to take responsibility."

"Because I can't live anywhere else. There's no other railway that would put up with an engine like me, even without the black marks that are already on my record." James whimpered, "That's why I'm afraid of anyone knowing, Molly."

Molly grimaced. As much as she hated to admit it, James was right about the world beyond their island home. Steam engines outside of Sodor lived in conditions that were not as lenient as the ones Sir Topham Hatt provided. Sodor was not the only such railway in the world, of course, but for every steam-conservative railway board, there were at least two that supported diesel-run railways and would treat steam engines very dismissively. Being scrapped was always- ALWAYS- the greatest fear that steam engines everywhere had, a universal fear among their kind. Sir Topham Hatt could easily put up with James, Thomas, and others with tendencies to cause confusion and delay because he was less focused on making money and progress, and more focused on keeping the railway close to its traditional image of a safe and punctual work environment- an image that engines and humans alike strove to maintain along with him. Other controllers, however, would almost-immediately see James as problematic and label him as 'unfit' for the work they needed done. The scrapyard would pretty much be the only verdict for him, in that case.

At the same time, though, Molly knew one thing that James said which was wrong, and it honestly made her relieved, "You're not going to be banished from Sodor, James."

"Yes, I will. If not by our controller, then by everyone else. In fact, forget the jobs and all that for a moment." James' eyes widened with the thoughts in his head, "Molly, if other engines find out, how do you think they'll react. So far, you seem only disappointed- and that's honestly better than what I expected- but what about Rosie? Henry? Thomas? Edward? Percy and Toby? How do you think they'll react."

"They'll be mad at you, that's for sure." Molly wasn't going to lie to him, but inside, she WAS a bit concerned about the others' reaction as well, "Thomas, especially, since Emily was one of his closest friends, next to Percy."

James gulped, "Even the friends I made after the fact will hate me: Neville, for example. It doesn't matter how repentant I might become, I'll be DESPISED. I value Thomas and Percy and all the rest of them, even when it might not seem like it. I...I don't want to lose them."

Molly suddenly leaned in close, "James, let me ask you something: Is that really fair to Emily, though? You have a reputation that, to everyone else, is admittedly more up than down, and you have plenty of fine friendships that you're afraid of losing. Meanwhile, partly because of YOU, she now has little if not nothing. Some engines have even given up any hope of her changing, more might follow, and last I checked, even Thomas was barely hanging on to her. Is it really fair for you to want to keep ahold of what you have when there's another out there whose life you helped to effectively ruin?"

James shook himself in a 'no' gesture.

"Tell me, James: Is there really NOTHING you can do?" Molly asked, "Because last I checked, one of the greatest and most noble acts in this world is putting your life on the line to help another."

"...Are you saying that I...that I should turn myself in?" James asked, dismayed, "Risk everything?"

"That really seems to be the only way of helping, so yes, you should," She said, "but not right now. Things are obviously still heated, what with Emily's increase in attitude and especially the whole business with the turntable. For now, we let things cool off, but once everyone is in a better state of mind," She gazed deep into his eyes, "you need to go and tell Sir Topham Hatt what you told me."

"B-but who knows how long it'll take for things to cool down, and by the time they do-" James protested.

"-you will not be given a chance to lose your nerve, because I will remind you," Molly smiled, assuringly, "and I will be with you when you tell Sir Topham Hatt."

"You will?" James blinked, "B-but what about what I said..what I did? You're not…?"

"I AM offended by what you did, make no mistake of that, and I'm still disappointed in you for it," Molly frowned, but she smiled again just as quickly, "but unlike a lot who might've kept going with it, you stopped and turned from it, and you still want to do something about it even when your guilt is making you think you can't, making you afraid to tell anyone."

"But...you're in the same boat with Emily. In fact, if you had arrived instead of her, the same events could've happened and I might've-" James told her.

"Probably, but you've changed since then, even if Emily is still too hurt to accept it. Maybe a lot of other engines wouldn't understand that repentance right away, and maybe you'll lose plenty of friendships before this is all over, but…" With a blush, she nuzzled him, "even if you don't, I'll always be your friend, James."

"Really?" He was shocked.

"Really." To emphasize her point, Molly leaned in a softly kissed his cheek, "In fact, I don't think I even needed to ask if our friendship was real or not."

Slowly and gradually, James let her words sink in. While it didn't seem like anything was happening on the outside, on the inside, the guilt-parasite was in its death-throes after Molly's words of wisdom and encouragement acted as the sword that had stabbed it.

Gently, with a sigh, he returned her nuzzle, "A-alright, then….when the time is right, I'll confess to Sir Topham Hatt and...maybe I can help Emily that way, like you said." He looked at her, his face unsmiling but still bearing respect and gratitude, "Thanks, Molly...for understanding."

"I was certainly more talkative than I thought I was going to be." She giggled. Backing away from him, she rolled back onto the turntable and was spun back around to her berth. Reversing into it once more, she glanced up at where the moon was just then starting it path of descent towards the western horizon- it would be morning in less than six hours, "James?"

"Yes?" He answered, blinking away his remaining tears and letting his driver wipe away the tracks with a handkerchief.

"...Stay here, tonight." It felt embarrassing to her, letting him sleep over, but if she was honest, the whole reason Sir Topham Hatt had given her two berths in the first place was so that she could give hospitality to any engines who were far from home as well as a place to sleep for the night.

James, though, looked unsure, "Do you really want me here? I mean, even if you-"

"James, I said I would always be your friend, even after this," She insisted, "so consider this a show of friendship. Besides, you don't want to wake up the rest of your group at Tidmouth and then have to answer questions about why your eyes are suddenly pink from crying, do you?"

To prove her point, James' driver wordlessly walked up to him and showed the red engine a pocket mirror. He grimaced, see how colorful his eyes did indeed look.

"...No, I guess not." With a sigh, James shifted a bit to get comfortable as his crew shut off his steam, "Thanks, Molly."

"No thanks necessary." She looked him up and down, "Now then, to review, what are you going to do when the time is right?"

"Confess what I've done."

"Because?"

He looked over, "Because I want to truly apologize to Emily, maybe bring the old her back like you said before?"

"Good." With a nod of approval, Molly settled in again and closed her eyes.

"But Molly, you still don't even know if the real Emily can be brought back. We don't-"

"WE," She interrupted, not even opening her eyes again, "are STILL going to do it anyway, because it's STILL the right thing to do." At his silence, she smiled victoriously, "Goodnight, James."

"...Goodnight, Molly."

He closed his eyes, sighing. This prompted Molly to open one of her own and gaze over at him.

 _God,_ She looked up to Heaven, silently praying, _is it really still okay for me to love him? Even with...this…knowing this, at least?_

No answer, not a worded one at least. Instead, as she dozed off, Molly was greeted with flashbacks to all of the times they spent together. They were as often as times she spent with Thomas and Rosie, but they were still far more memorable- signs that James had definitely changed from the engine he had minutes earlier confessed that he used to be.

Molly smiled in her sleep. It was certainly answer enough to her prayer.

James smiled in his sleep too, eternally grateful that Sodor had such optimistic engines like Molly. For the first time in several years, his guilt was dead, and as unsure as he was about the yellow engine's plan, he finally felt remorse.

It was better than treading water any day.

 **Aaaand I'm back, and after *looks at calender* a month? I'm not going to lie, with college, work, and the real world in general hitting me hard not too long after I published chapter 4, I never thought I was going to continue this story- I just couldn't work up the motivation to open my Word or Google Docs to edit it. BUT it's here, and I am thankful to the Lord above for inspiring me to get this done.**

 **So here we have it: James without a doubt has something to do with Emily's change in personality, and it's bad enough that even Molly can't believe it- BUT they now have a plan for what James is going to do. The question is how this will cooperate or conflict with the table-turners?**

 **Now, for those of you who were expecting to see flashbacks and to hear the details in this chapter, I'm sorry if you're disappointed- I'm bad with doing flashback sequences, regrettably, so I decided to save the full reveal for later on. As for those of you who were expecting to see Emily's perspective in this chapter, don't worry. After a lot of consideration, I decided to divide chapter 5 into two parts. Part A will be about James and the upcoming Part B will be about Emily. So, therefore, we will dive in and get a better look at how Emily is feeling about all of this. A** **nyway, I hope you all have enjoyed this chapter, and again, if you don't it's fine. I know I might've killed the hopes of any James x Emily shippers out there by introducing James x Molly, but in my opinion, Molly just seems like a more...balanced match for James- shy with arrogant, quiet with boisterous, red with yellow, you get the idea. She's also my favorite character next to Emily herself. Funny story, I researched a bit of her personality after I wrote this in order to make possible corrections to her responses, and I was surprised at how close to canon I got it- excepting her obvious Christian faith, which I gave to her myself.**

 **I will admit that I was honestly surprised by how many of you seemed to point at so-called "shipping teases" that I [honestly didn't realize that I]** **put in previous chapters, and that only makes me more conflicted as to whether this story should end with romance between the main protagonists.** **Therefore, on my profile, I actually have posted a poll (and a lot of info about it, oops). If you get a chance, and want to, please give me your opinion: Should I make this a Thomas x Emily romance story, keep it as a friendship story, or pair two of the other single characters together? I might not write it into this story, but I will definitely consider a separate story. Thank you all for reading, and I'll see you guys again for chapter 5B. Again, do NOT hesitate to PM me with ideas, because I ALWAYS could use the inspiration.**


	6. Chapter 5B

CHAPTER 5B: EMILY- AFTERMATH

Under normal circumstances, the distant sound of waves crashing against a rocky shore would be a calming sound, similar to how many people would fall asleep easier to the sound of raindrops on their windows and rooftops. Combine that with a beautiful and clear night with absolutely no clouds to speak of, fireflies flashing their lights here and there, and a deep forest with thick clusters of trees filling almost every bit of your vision, you would almost have something that you'd normally only be able to picture in fairytales. All that was missing were the actual pixies, and maybe even a unicorn or two, to complete the enchanted storybook image.

Running through this particular forest, however, there was also an old set of railway tracks. If you were to walk north along them, you would quickly end up on one the cliffs overlooking the blue-gray Irish Sea. If you were to travel south, going past the point you started, various twists and turns would bring you back to civilization in the form of Tidmouth, Knapford, and Wellsworth along the main line. If you were to remain at the starting point, however, and look to your left, you would just barely be able to find a lonely siding, slightly veering itself away from the line that was already off the beaten path- one of only a few along these tracks- and concealed by thick bushes. Even the points leading to it were somewhat shrouded in shadow.

On that evening, on the other side of those bushes, a fire burned white-hot from its lone occupant. It would be hard to detect at first because, unlike most fires, it didn't burn bright with light and wasn't visibly exposed for all to witness. It was a blaze unlike the familiar orange flames of a campfire or boiler-fire every person would be familiar with. However, if anyone- engine or human- were to stop for a moment next to the siding and wait, they would regardless begin to feel the heat and tension that came from the other side of the bushes. This heat would make them fear, and many would eventually be forced to retreat back or push forward along the tracks to escape the danger of being severely burned.

Loyalty and understanding, however, was what prevented two Scotsmen in blue railway uniforms from performing either of those maneuvers. Instead of trying to escape the heat, they did all they could to bear it, remaining a safe distance away on the other side of the rails, opposite the concealing vegetation. Of course, if you were to look at their expressions and ask if they were uneasy, the two would nod with neither hesitation nor excuse.

"So…" Leaning on the coal shovel of a fireman, the stoker carrying it looked at his partner nervously, "what do you make of it?"

"Of what, Daniel? Are you asking what I think about what's happening at this very moment," The other one- the driver- answered, looking over at the siding with caution, "or about what's been going on LATELY?"

"We both already know what's probably happening right now, Mick." The other man clarified, "Why d'ya think we're standing over here?" He stomped his foot to emphasize their position.

"Good point." With a sigh, Emily's driver, Mick, shook his head in bewilderment, "I thought…After all that they were throwing at each other at the Steamworks, I thought I was beginning to understand what was going on, what had REALLY happened the other night. I even felt that...I felt that even with the words she left him with, I'd thought maybe- JUST MAYBE- the end of that conversation was the start of something at least RESEMBLING peace."

"Excellent wording, because it wouldn't really have been peace." Daniel chuckled humorlessly, "I was gonna correct you."

"Regardless of whether it lasted, any heat building up between everyone would've still dissipated for the time being, but...after today, NOW I don't know..." He met his partner's gaze, "Everything that's going on…to me, it's like writing a fan parody of your favorite radio or television show on paper, making predictions and your own headcanon, only for it all to be blown out of the water with one particular episode- an official episode that can be better or downright HORRIBLE compared to what you theorized."

"I guess that makes sense." Daniel admitted, "I at least know that this morning blew my hopes for a better passenger run out of the water. Only thing is...this isn't television. It's real life, and over there is a very real steam engine with really dangerous heat coming from her- heat that has nothing to do with the coal I shovel into her firebox." He nodded to the siding, "I'm honestly surprised she kept herself in check around the passengers when we got to the station, especially considering that she was practically sobbing after that brief run-in with James."

"When it comes to work, she IS pretty good at keeping herself composed, even around bitter folks. Besides, Emily couldn't bear to be mean to the passengers even if she wanted to. She couldn't even be too mean to US even if she wanted to. You and I both know that, as well as why." Mick sighed, "But that's HUMANS. When it comes to other engines, though, it's more difficult for her to keep herself restrained. Combine that with engines like JAMES and…." He pointed upwards, "May Heaven help them, because only God can tame the beast at that point. No human being would be able to, not even the two of us.

"With engines like James, no human would WANT to, anyway. Not if they..." Groaning, his partner swung his shovel to rest on his shoulder, "Ugh...You know...WHY are we still doing this? We both KNOW, we were both THERE, yet we're still keeping our mouths shut? We should be going right up to Sir Topham Hatt and telling him what's going on."

"So that he can do WHAT?" The driver scowled at him, "As good of a man as he is, and as caring deep down, I highly doubt that telling him everything is going to make things better. In fact, while I may be a fool for still largely thinking this way, I believe telling him will make things worse for all of us- not just those responsible, but for Emily especially."

"Telling him will bring everything to the surface, Mick."

"And then what? Let's try and go through what can happen based on the past three days alone." Mick raised his hand and started to count on his fingers, "James will be punished, for one-"

"As he SHOULD be, no matter how sorry he claims to be." Daniel answered.

"-BUT so will Thomas and Rosie."

"As THEY should be." His partner countered, "They'll ALL get their just desserts."

"Really?" Mick's eyebrow went up at his friend, "Danny, I may be still be lost on what's exactly going on, but here's my theory: From what I can just barely understand, I think what's been going on is finally- FINALLY- a second punch, while Emily's thrown the first. In fact, not even that: Other engines threw that first punch, Emily threw the second at everyone else, and today marks two of them finally getting fed up enough that they're retaliating as well- but it's against another victim."

"Well, OBVIOUSLY, they're retaliating because they don't know who the actual instigators are." Daniel insisted, "But if we told Sir Topham Hatt-"

"If we told Sir Topham Hatt, I feel that EVERYONE would be punished the SAME EXACT WAY, and what justice does that do for Emily?"

"I don't follow…"

Mick sighed, "The three of us came to Sodor for a new life, a new start. You and I, we've had our run-ins with trouble, but Emily was- IS- the kindest soul either of us had ever met, someone who would never naturally want to do harm. And what happens? She- not us, who actually deserve it more- but SHE is the one who is attacked." His gaze softened, "She's hurting inside, and we both know that she hates what she's become, but it's gone on for so long- is STILL going on- that it seems she just can't allow herself to regress at this stage. That anger she feels, it's not just at James or Thomas, but also at herself." He hung his head, "And Thomas, too...As much as I hate what he's done these past few days, he is by no means as guilty of hurting her as an engine like James is- at least not in the same way."

"Again," Daniel muttered, "good choice of words."

His friend continued, "In fact, I'd say he's in the same position as she is, which means the two of them- three or more, including Rosie and anyone else who suddenly and randomly decides to lose it- being punished equally alongside the engines who started this whole thing will only be a lack of real justice. That'll make things worse, like convicting a man to death who shot an intruder to protect his family while an actual murderer gets only the life sentence."

Daniel was silent, considering the words.

"In short, it would be a complete warring states period: so many friendships will ultimately be severed, teamwork will be next to nonexistent," The driver's eyes widened in fearful realization, "and Heavens above, the whole Steam Team itself will fall apart. The rest of the railway just might follow without that core. And if the railway goes under…"

His coworker stared at him like he had just grown two heads, "That is a frighteningly elaborate dystopia for you to theorize, especially considering it's the result of only two random events over the past three days."

"I guess my father's pessimism has rubbed off on me a bit."

"No kidding. Are you absolutely sure you're not exaggerating, chum?"

"First of all, it's something I've been theorizing for months now. The past three days have only made it more clear to me. And second of all," He shook his head, "no, I'm not. Topham Hatt is level-headed but not impenetrable. Even he has lines he's drawn and can be pushed across with enough provocation. If he knew, especially now of all times, all the heat and anger and accusations flying around right now would only increase and it would force him to take harsh action on everyone involved- he won't care who started it, just that the fighting stops NOW. Just picture that argument Thomas and Emily had at the Steamworks on a worse scale, combine it with Topham Hatt's fuse-"

"-and given that Thomas and Emily are both the sort of engine to never easily back down from challenges," Daniel realized, "they can go at it for hours with just one another and his fuse will LONG be burned out."

"The downside of two people who are a lot alike. Plus, that's not even counting factors such as James possibly denying his part in starting it, or Rosie in contributing to it, not to mention all of them and more starting to fight at once." The other Scotsman nodded, remembering the argument between the Stirling and the two tank engines after the turntable incident had occurred- as well as how Sir Topham Hart had finally broken it up, "After what happened, especially with Thomas and Emily being late, he was quick to get irritated and dish out punishments. I fear something like that happening but on a larger, almost-nuclear scale. As the head railway controller, too, he'd have to act in some way the very SECOND he learns of this or face criticisms from even higher up on the chain of command. He can't keep silent on the issue like we can." He paused, "Emily trusts us, Daniel. We've been her crew and friends for years now, after all, but she also loves this railway and… even with how she acts now, just think about how she'll feel if we were to set something like that in motion."

"I can't even begin to imagine…" The fireman thought long and hard, but he ultimately gave a defeated shake of his head, "How do you think she'll feel?"

"If we felled the dominoes right now? Well…" He stared at Daniel, "tell me, you ever wonder what being stonewalled by your own engine is like?"

"Considering that engines of both genders have more heart than most humans, and can make you feel TWICE as guilty for wronging them or someone they know, I don't particularly wanna know what it's like…." Daniel sighed, "Okay, I can maybe see your point there, but we can't just keep silent, either, Mick. Emily's holding a lot in right now like you said, and with what she went through today…Well, we both checked her pressure gauges."

The two of them shivered, remembering the unnaturally-high readings they had kept seeing until the late afternoon.

"If we can't take the risk with telling Sir Topham Hatt, there's still gotta be a way that we can help her. Lighten her burden, you know? Either way," He pounded his forehead with a fist, trying to jumpstart his mind, "there's got to be SOMETHING, someway...somewhere…."

 _And the question is the W's- all five of them, including how._ Mick thought, knowing Daniel was right.

With a glance at the siding, he inhaled deeply before taking a step forward onto the tracks separating them from it. Looking back at his partner, he nodded his head once, "With two men like us and an engine like her? Well…the way I see it, the only way we're gonna come up with any final answer to this situation is together as a team."

"That DOES sound like a good place to start," Daniel nodded, almost reminiscent, "but that's assuming she actually WANTS us to check on her anymore tonight. Or at all. Heck, she asked for us to give her space, so for all we know, she probably expects us to leave her here until tomorrow morning."

"That's not happening. We've let her stew for almost two hours now, but judging by the fact that I can't even cut the tension with a knife anymore, I don't think leaving her be is doing any good."

"Yeah. I know you're right," Daniel grew concerned, "and I'm usually able to work up the nerve to go over there right now, but…." Seeing that Mick had continued walking towards the siding, the fireman shook his head in disapproval, "that girl's a caged lioness you're planning on disturbing. She's gonna run you down." He sighed, "First you, and then maybe she'll derail herself just to hit me when I try to run."

"Oh, she will not, and even if that was true," He smirked over his shoulder, "then you're a brave man if you're willing to be ALONE with our lioness in your last moments."

"Wha-? Oh no you don't!" The realization hit Daniel like a brick and he was at that point more than happy to join him, sticking close to his side, "If you have to go down like that, we both go together. You are NOT leaving me behind!"

"Such a dark- yet brotherly- way with words of your own. You know, you should really become a poet." His friend snickered.

Daniel snorted, "Look who's talking, Mr. 'Sodor's doomed 'till Judgement Day if we don't keep our traps shut.'"

"See? Poetic!"

"Shut up."

With that exchange, the two of them made their way slowly across the tracks to the other side, keeping their cautious eyes on the concealing foliage as they crept closer. As they went, the slight amusement they'd had a minute earlier faded as they started to feel nervous with what they heard- or didn't hear, that is. Even as they neared the siding, the air around the men seemed to be flooded with nothing but dead silence. Considering that engines always seemed able to make at least one sound to break the silence- steam, whistle, or anything of the sort- it was always something along the lines of a bad omen to hear nothing from them whatsoever.

Mick strained his ears, knowing full-well that it was a siding with one entrance and that Emily was still sitting in it, _How and why is she so quiet? You'd think she'd- oh._

To their combined relief, and with their ears practically scraping the branches of the bushes, the two sighed when they finally heard the sound of soft breathing.

"Whew, I was getting worried." Daniel chuckled, listening some more, "Still feel that tension, but she doesn't sound like she's crying or irritated, so that's good." Taking initiative, he walked past Mick and grinned, "Maybe leaving her alone DID do some good after all. Perhaps we're just being paranoid."

His partner laid a hand on his shoulder, "Calm or not, at least take a peek around the corner before you just go waltzing in there. You know she always hated it back at Knapford, especially after work when you just kept bothering her some days for dumb reasons."

"Good point." The fireman nodded, remembering.

Taking Mick's advice, he backed up against the bushes and crept the rest of the way along the outer edge of the bushes until he reached the corner near the points. He then without hesitation leaned to the side to peek around the corner.

As he did, Mick opened his mouth to ask, "How is she?"

What actually came out was "Ho-OOF!" as Daniel suddenly jumped back as if something had tried to grab him by the neck, running into his friend in the process.

"What in the blazes happened?" Bracing his feet to keep them both from falling over, Mick immediately noticed and felt his coworker shaking like a leaf, "Danny...are you alright?"

"W-We're not paranoid." His partner quickly shook his head.

"What?"

"I-I honestly hope no other engines come by and need to use this siding." The poor man muttered as if he didn't hear him, eyes wide in fear, "Because I know I'd be terrified if I saw THAT," He pointed at the corner, "waiting for me."

"Saw what?" Mick demanded, "It's just Emily in there."

"You should see for yourself." Daniel gulped, "I don't think she's really OUR Emily right now."

Releasing him, the other Scotsman went over and copied his former position, peering slowly around the bushes into the siding, "What do you mean she-?"

The poor driver wasn't certain, but he could've sworn he felt his heart stop for a few beats at what he saw, _Holy…._

Emily was indeed neither irritated or sad, but Mick realized he should've known better than to even begin to equate their engine's soft breathing with a benevolent emotion. Thanks to that misconception, however, the sight that greeted him as he looked around the corner could only be described as pure nightmare fuel- and it was mostly centered around Emily's current facial expression.

The Stirling's brow was extremely furrowed, both eyebrows almost arcing straight down in the middle towards her nose in a way that only seemed comparable to Diesel 10 or Diesel whenever someone ran them up the wall (which was still quite often, considering the remaining rivalry between the diesels and steamies). As for her nose itself, in contrast yet in sync to her calm breaths, both Scotsmen watched as her nostrils widened and narrowed like a rodeo bull's. Further down, her lips were curled into a snarl, exposing a set jaw and grit teeth- teeth that were large, strong, and more than sharp enough to snap a lead pipe in half like a pretzel stick. However, the most frightening part of the look on Emily's face at that moment was her eyes. The emerald engine had always possessed a certain sparkle in them that was the most prominent whenever she was happy, and the most dulled whenever she was annoyed or cross (the best example having been the incident with Thomas and his snowplow). While the sparkle remained now, rather than make Emily look friendly, it made her pupils seem to glow, which in the current light gave the illusion of a female tender engine with pitch-black irises- demonic-looking eyes.

That wasn't all the dim nighttime lighting did. Emily's dark-green frame seemed to disappear and become camouflaged with the surrounding foliage. The black paint of her signature curved smokebox blended into the shadows with the rest of her, while on top of it, the Stirling's tall onyx funnel let out a watermelon-sized cloud of black smoke with every exhale, the only thing marking its own existence being the heavily-filtered moonlight shining on the halo-like brass ring at its end. The result of all of this was making Emily's already-pale face seem like it was floating in midair like a ghostly, disembodied head.

The only other detail that somewhat broke this illusion was her buffers, the top edges of which showed themselves in the really dim light with a silver sheen- barely, even less than her funnel ring. They all still paled in comparison to the rest of their engine, nonetheless. Mick shuddered, thanking the Almighty that this line they were on was older and less-used as he stepped back, turning to face his partner.

For a long moment, the two shared an uneasy gaze.

"Well," The driver exhaled, "this is new."

"No kidding." Daniel crossed his arms, "I was only half-joking before, but now leaving her here until morning seems like a GREAT idea."

"I am NOT walking home through these woods. There's no telling how quickly we could get lost or fall in a hole and twist both ankles."

"We could walk on the bloody rails." The fireman countered.

"No. It's easier to navigate, but still too dangerous when you get back to the main lines, particularly with engines wanting to go faster to get work done so they can head off to sleep. I'd rather stay here. Besides," Mick gestured around them, "regardless of how we might go, with how far we still are from Tidmouth, it'll be morning and time to come BACK the second we make it to the edge of the yards on foot."

"I think I'd rather take my own chances with another engine than ask THAT to take us home." His comrade pointed at the siding.

"Do NOT start making her out to be a villain, not now." Mick growled, slapping his arm down, "Seriously, Daniel..."

"Well, it's not like either of us really have a plan of action if we both agree that this is new."

"Well, then let's at least take heart in the fact that NONE of her crews over the years have had this happen." Mick tapped his forehead, "Remember the records? We read every single one of them to get a feel for her personality in the beginning, and none of them ever mentioned anything like this. It just goes to show how much of a good person we know she truly is."

"Fair enough, but now WE are experiencing it first-time and firsthand without any clue as to how to deal with it. So tell me," He leaned on his shovel again, giving him a pointed glare, "if we're not going to exit stage-left, any bright ideas in that head of yours on where to go from here?"

Mick scratched his head, "Well...for starters, at least we now know what she looks like when she's angry- REALLY angry…."

It was true. If he could compare it to something he was familiar with, being mad or cross was like grog- watered down with other emotions like sympathy, love, and sadness- whereas true anger was like straight whiskey with every emotion that opposed the others, including hatred. While there wasn't as big a gap between being mad and angry as there was with feeling guilt and remorse, there was still a noticeable difference- albeit a difference that existed as a spectrum. At the most, Emily only ever seemed to get mad with someone or something, giving them a look that screamed, "Are you kidding me!?", similar to how a wife might look at her husband or a sister might look at her brothers whenever they did something that seemed so unbelievably idiotic to her. No human or engine had ever reported seeing her go beyond that, not even the most devious of diesels, and if Mick was honest, Emily's old sweet, gentle, yet assertive personality red-labeled her as someone you did NOT want to drive up that wall in the first place. Common sense said it all: The nicest of people could become your worst nightmare if you wronged them or those they cared about.

And with engines, that rule supposedly went double.

The driver looked around the corner, gazing at his engine's thousand-yard stare, at a loss for how to respond to Daniel's question.

Suddenly, his mind halted, _Wait…._

His let his thoughts backtrack a little bit, _A THOUSAND-YARD STARE? Hang on a second…._

"Mick, you fool!" Daniel whispered loudly, looking on in horror as he began to walk on the tracks towards the Stirling, "What the heck are you doing!?"

"I just realized something, Danny." Mick looked over his shoulder at him, raising his hand for silence, "You know...it's pretty quiet out here. SHE'S pretty quiet. No mumbling, nothing."

"So?"

"Just watch."

"Watch what? Your murder? She may be no villain, but an engine that's angry is still an engine that'll act without thinking, just like us humans."

"That's normally true, but I doubt it is in this case. I've got a feeling…."

Trailing off, he turned and continued walking towards their friend until he stopped roughly five feet from her buffers. Then, with one last glance back to make sure Daniel was watching, he made himself even more conspicuous to the emerald engine by waving.

There was…no reaction.

Emily's expression didn't change nor did she make any acknowledgement of her driver's presence before her.

 _Maybe a little closer…_ He slowly came within three feet before removing his hat, waving again and using it like a blue flag, but again there was no reaction. The Stirling's breathing and expression remained undisturbed. The latter bored into him, but as hard as it was to look at her without shaking, he could now clearly see that they definitely seemed to look THROUGH him and not AT him, _Yep. Just like I was thinking..._

Needing one last bit of clarification for the books, though, he walked right up to Emily, standing right between her buffers to the point that his ribs were lightly brushing against her coupling. Once there, he reached his right arm out-

Daniel gasped, "Mick, no-!"

-and snapped his fingers right in his engine's face.

Both mens' breath hitched.

"..."

"..."

"..."

That was ALL that happened though. Emily once again failed to react.

Mick exhaled, "Just as I thought."

Nodding to himself, the driver turned and calmly- CALMLY, with his back to her and vulnerable to attack- strode back to where his partner remained hidden.

"Wha…? You were right in her face, and she did NOTHING!?" Daniel's jaw seemed about to hit the floor, "How is that…? WHAT!?"

"Well...do you want the bad news or the decent news first?"

"What's the decent news?"

"The decent news is...she's PROBABLY not actually angry right now."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Daniel looked at him like he was an idiot, "It's literally plastered across her face!"

"True...but…" Mick sighed, knowing he had to start from the beginning, "My family was friends with a pastor back in Glasgow, and he told us that he had something like this happen in his congregation roughly three years before we were hired on by the railway back home. A man in the church had a similar look during services one Sunday and everyone sat well away from him, giving him practically the whole pew. Here's the thing, though." He glanced at the emerald engine, "That same man stopped by his office and apologized for making everyone nervous. After giving him some clerical counseling, he later learned that the man was actually angry at his wife for cheating on him and divorcing him a week prior, not at anyone in church on that particular Sunday. This isn't exactly the same type of event, but..." Mick nodded at the memory, "The pastor personally called it a 'Vexation Trance.'"

"'Vexation Trance?'" Daniel blinked.

"He said it was fueled directly by the 'Fires of Anger' themselves. All it takes is for the person experiencing it to think about their problems, at best disappointment and at worst pure hatred for whatever reason, such as something they wanted and lost to their greatest enemy or maybe a way their fellow man wronged them. You know, not 'putting it away' as the scriptures say? Anyway, they 'derealize', he said, and as they detach themselves from the world, they may not be feeling completely hateful, per se, but that raw anger will still be brought to the surface for all to see."

"I have NEVER heard of something like that before." Daniel shook his head.

"Well, he ALSO said that it was a rare occurrence that isn't too commonplace with most people. In fact, I guarantee you won't even find mention of it in most places, but here's another way you can picture it: Remember back in school when you had your eyes on that one lassie for awhile? You didn't say ANYTHING, didn't even consciously SHOW it, and yet you wanna know how she and the rest of the school figured you had something for her?" The other man raised an eyebrow, "It was because you were thinking so deeply about her in class that the biggest and dumbest grin kept crossing your face. You even absentmindedly turned your eyes to look her way, still wearing that smile."

Daniel's face flushed red, "Oh…Well, that explains the weird looks in the halls and the way she avoided me after graduation..." He shook his head, clearing that humiliation from his mind, and then looked at Mick seriously, "So...Emily's deep in thought, in a...Vexation Trance? It's...like that OTHER trance-?"

"-BUT fueled by bad thoughts, showing anger that she may or may not be even feeling, which itself is powered by hate- and again, she could or could not be feeling it. It's just the thoughts she's having that's making her unconsciously do this right now- STRONG thoughts. Heck, she might even be crying inside for all we know." Mick shrugged, "I honestly have no idea."

"...What's the bad news, then? You said you had that and the decent news."

Mick groaned, "The fact that she's doing this now is a sure sign that Thomas's stunt and Rosie's actions have made things worse to the point where leaving her to try and cool off in this siding like usual is most definitely NOT going to help any of us anymore."

"Oh boy…" The fireman gulped, then looked at Emily himself, cringing once more at her expression and wondering just how the heck they were going to pull off keeping everything on the down-low like they wanted if giving her space after a rough day was no longer going to be enough. After all, they had failed to keep her from becoming the bossy buffers she was now, and that was with the option of the siding they were standing in.

For the moment, though, what Mick said about working together was something he was absolutely sure about, especially now, "So...she's safe?"

"I'm ninety-nine-percent sure she is, yeah."

"Okay, so…" Taking a careful few steps forward to test the waters, Daniel finally walked with his partner up to the female tender engine, "how do we snap her out of it? I mean, we SHOULD snap her out of it, shouldn't we? Talk to her?"

"Obviously, since that was the whole point of coming back over here. Talking to us might be a bit more therapeutic and a good substitute to cooling off for her, at least for now. How long that'll last, though, I can't say."

"So…?" Daniel looked pointedly at him.

"Hmm…" Mick considered it for a second, _She didn't respond to me snapping my fingers. What about physical contact…?_

Walking around to her side, the driver took a moment to limber up before running and climbing onto the Stirling engine's running boards, ending up just behind her smokebox. Reaching up with one hand and grabbing her boiler's handrail for support, he motioned for Daniel to safely get clear of the tracks with his other hand before he then tapped the end of the emerald engine's smokebox closest to her pistons, "Emily?"

She didn't respond.

Flattening his palm, he stood and gave a few hard smacks to the black-painted metal that was at eye-level, speaking a bit louder, "Emily."

Again, no response.

 _Seriously!? What'll it take, a foghorn?_ Mick leaned forward and around, roughly poking her left cheek in the spot next to her eye- and OF COURSE receiving zip, zilch, and nada for a response, _Are you ki- HOW OUT OF IT IS SHE!?_

He suddenly began to feel very frustrated in his own right, but he forced it back down and calmed himself. Instead, he looked at Daniel, "Okay, so my way didn't work. How about you? Any ideas?"

"I've got one." With a smirk, the fireman shouldered his shovel and walked past him to their engine's left-side driving wheel. The matching eight-foot-diameter components and the cranking coupling rods attached to them were without a doubt their Stirling engine's pride and joy, being more unique than other wheel arrangements found on Sodor's engines.

Secretly though, known pretty much only to the crews and engineers among other things, driving wheels were ALSO the most touch-sensitive external parts of any engine regardless of make and model, steam or diesel. Regarding it for just a second, Daniel then breathed into his hand before reaching out and calmly rubbing it over the end of Emily's coupling rod as if he was shining a fresh apple. He then took a step back, raised his shovel like a cricket bat, and took aim, "Sorry about this, girl."

Mick's grip on the handrail tightened.

CLANG!

"Ahh!" The effect was immediate as Emily suddenly jolted forward several meters, her eyes widening in complete surprise and her angry expression disappearing entirely. Even holding on as he was, the quick movement still nearly caused her driver to have a nasty spill as his knuckles whitened around the handrail. After the initial surprise though, the force of the shovel's blow to her wheel finally registered and the emerald engine's face contorted into a pained grimace as she slowly settled back into her former position, "Ow..."

Looking back, the Stirling's eyes filled with confusion when she saw her driver on her running boards. They then filled with outright betrayal when she saw her fireman standing further back near her beloved driving wheels, "Cinders and ashes, Daniel, what was THAT for!?"

"Well, Mick couldn't snap you out of it, and he was right under your nose," The shovel-wielding man explained, sounding relieved, "so I figured this would be the next best thing."

"Next best thing for WHAT?" Emily grumbled, giving a threatening gesture with her eyes that told Daniel to step away from the large green wheel that instant if he didn't want to get hurt later.

The fireman obeyed, keeping his hands- and shovel- where she could see them as he walked to stand next to her buffer beam, "Well...Mick said you were in a Vexation Trance, Em."

"A vex-WHAT?" Emily blinked, looking higher up at her driver, "What is he talking about?"

"Emily," Taking a few steps forward, Mick walked onto her buffer bar and casually leaned against the front edge of her smokebox, looking at her face-to-face with concern, "it's been two hours. We came back over to see how you were feeling, but with the Lord Almighty as our witness, you looked for all the world like you wanted to KILL somebody. Think that claw-wearing monster Diesel 10, but even more terrifying and camouflaged to boot, and that's what you looked like."

The Stirling's brow furrowed in thought, "I did? I...really looked THAT scary?"

"It scared the heck out of ME, at least, not that Mick will admit to it getting him too." Daniel added, but then hesitated, "You...DON'T actually want to kill anyone, do you?"

Emily frowned, but not as bad as before and definitely not without her usual irritation (which was a relief), "No, not KILL, I just...I don't know. Look, I didn't mean to scare you two or anything. I really...I was just trying to think."

"That much was obvious. Today's done nothing but help give all of us a lot to think about- whether we want to or not." Mick sighed, "Let me guess: Thomas? Rosie?" He paused, "James?"

"All of the above, yet I HATE thinking about that last one." Emily growled, "Really…What right did that blood-painted diesel think he had, after all he did and all he said to me?" She gently shook herself no, minding the human on her front, "None! He had no right- NO RIGHT- to just think he could come up to me and ask me if I'm okay as if we were friends. He has no right to even pretend. I'm just...I just...I hate him." She took a deep breath, letting it out as a sad sigh, "I hate James. So. Much."

"We're not judging you for that, make no mistake. Every action he took, every word he said, those are things that hit hard and are extremely difficult to forgive." Mick scowled at the thought of the red engine. Thinking about how Emily had screamed at him earlier as well, he decided to ask, "But...do you really think he was pretending? At least today?"

"Maybe he wasn't, but I honestly don't care. It doesn't cover up the pain...," She muttered, "and like I told him, with what's been going on lately, I'm starting to wonder if anything ever will again."

"He DID add a sorry into what he was saying, though. What if he actually meant his apology?"

"Then that makes everything he's ever said and done suddenly okay? No, it doesn't. Thanks to him…" She closed her eyes, flashbacks starting to appear that she did NOT want to see again for the millionth time, and sadness filled her features, "Why, Mick...? Why is all of this happening? Why is ANY of it happening? Last week, things were...I GUESS you could say 'normal', and while it wasn't perfect, it was better."

"Agreed." The men affirmed together.

"Now, though, I've been utterly humiliated- TWICE- and by engines I thought were still my friends, and now it seems like the world is just...closing in around me even more..." Her lip quivered, "...particularly Thomas..."

Mick caressed her smokebox in a comforting way, "PARTICULARLY Thomas?"

"The incident with his snowplough, my argument with Elizabeth while she was clearing the tracks, him staying at Knapford with me…" She sighed, "I thought...After everything else, after everything in GENERAL, I thought Thomas was always a CONSTANT. No matter what, he...he was always there and he was always my best friend. But the other night…." A flashback to her seconds-late arrival crossed her sad eyes, "Why did he do that? What was he trying to prove or what did he have to gain by nearly leaving his passengers behind? Making ME look like..." She trailed off again.

Both Scotsmen looked at each other, but neither answered at that second, wanting to let the Stirling speak her mind in full.

"And earlier today...even if I was mad at him at the Steamworks yesterday, I would've thought he'd have at least defended me when what happened was clearly Rosie's fault." She grumbled, "I even told him- CONCEDED- that I wouldn't bother him about his coaches anymore, but...instead he agreed with her dumb logic, and I was made to look like a fool by both of them." She shook herself in disbelief, "WHY?"

"Rosie was punished with you, though. You both got the lecture." Daniel reasoned, laying his hand on her buffer and rubbing his thumb over it in a comforting manner, "As little as any of us could even stand to be near her after that, there's THAT justice, at least."

"Is it really justice, Daniel? Sir Topham Hatt, the yard manager, everyone at Knapford is going to have me labeled as an engine who doesn't listen, an engine who doesn't follow orders, an engine, quote-unquote 'too big for her already-enormous wheels.'" She explained, squeezing her eyes shut at that last one as if it had inflicted actual physical pain on her, greater than a coal shovel. "And if word gets around Sodor to the other yards..."

"They won't do or say any of those things- ESPECIALLY that last one." Her fireman lightly smacked her buffer bar, rebuking her, "James said that he went through something similar. If you can actually believe that, then it means that what happened today wasn't the first time and it surely won't be the last." He nodded to himself, "If it's even written down at all, that torture session of roundabouts will be put on your record as 'accidental', nothing more."

Mick knew that his partner had a point, but then again, so did Emily, "The key word she said is 'labeled', Danny, as in it will be put on paper as accidental for visiting inspectors and future generations to come. In the present, though, things are said and believed by charisma, the word of mouth, and the most destructive part of the body: the tongue. Rosie, last I checked, is QUITE charismatic with quite the verbal tongue to express it." He crossed his arms, "Emily's right about that: Word WILL get around, and while I highly doubt they'll make design insults against her, Rosie still put up a good enough farce by continuously offering to get her coaches and acting WORRIED, as well as having a good argument to protect herself after this poor girl was already trapped with nowhere to run…" He paused for a second, "As much as I'd hate to say it, it's our word against a station pilot's to Knapford's staff."

"Our wo-" Emily had been looking down at her buffers during the two mens' exchange, but at Mick's last sentence, her eyes suddenly widened and then narrowed into a glare at him, "What do you mean OUR word?

For a moment, he was confused, but upon realizing what she was talking about, Mick returned the glare, "I know what you're thinking and I'm warning you: Stop thinking it. "

"Oh, I WILL think about it. After all, we all heard Rosie, knew what had happened…but when it came time to say something, I was the only one talking!" She growled at him, "YOU TWO didn't say anything in my defense!"

"Emily..." Mick warned.

"It's like you both wer-!"

"Emily the Stirling Engine!" He reprimanded, yelling in her face and shutting her up, then pointed right at her, speaking normally with an even, ominous tone, "I urge you to think VERY CAREFULLY about that path you're about to go down, lass, BEFORE you make enemies out of us too." He leaned forward, looking her dead in the eye, "We've stood by you for this long, we've tolerated you turning on all of your friends because you're one of the engines- one of the PEOPLE- we care about most."

Daniel matched his look, "Turn on US, and we WILL walk away right now."

"Oh yeah? Fine then." She challenged, thinking they were both bluffing, "Go right ahead."

"Let's go, Daniel." Mick pointedly turned and hopped back down to the ground, "I guess we ARE walking home tonight."

"Wait, wha-" Emily's look immediately one-eightied to one of surprise and as she nervously watched them dismount and start walking away, "W-where are you two going?"

"We don't make threats, Emily, we make promises." The driver pointedly said as they made it ten meters away, "You got everything of yours, Daniel?" _Five_

"Yep. You?" Daniel nodded, shouldering his shovel. _Four_

"Yep." _Three_

Unseen by the now-panicking Stirling behind them, both men shared a wink as they made it fifteen meters. _Two_

Sixteen meters. The siding's entrance was right there before them. _One…_

 _And..._

"W-wait! Mick...Daniel, please wait!" All at once, Emily was right behind them and nearly bowling them over with her much larger size, her expression now filled to the brim with terror as she immediately regretted getting mad at them, "Don't leave!"

 _Bingo._ Both men turned with their armed crossed, looking at her expectantly.

"I.." She gulped, knowing exactly what she had to say, "I didn't mean...I...I just..." She looked at them, then looked down in shame, "I'm sorry."

That right there. The utter remorse and honesty in just that simple apology- more than in any apology she'd given in a long time- only served to prove what Mick had said about Emily not being able to be too mean to them. Despite expecting it, though, it still came as a surprise even then to see just a little bit of Emily's old self shine through.

On top of that, her fear of them leaving her behind was understandable. Even though engines like the emerald Stirling were capable of things like self-movement, there was only so far any engine could eventually get without a crew in their cab. A driver like Mick, especially, was not only a set of eyes on her gauges but also extra control over speed, steam, and another set of reflexes on the brakes in an emergency. When it came to crewmen who particularly bonded with and understood their engine like the two Scotsmen did with her, Emily knew that Mick and Daniel- and all several pairs of her drivers and firemen before them- were long past just being coworkers, teammates, and even family. To her, the two men had become a large part of herself- and HEAVEN FORBID it if she pushed that part of herself away along with everything else. Of course, at heated moments like this, she cursed herself for always seeming to forget that fact until it was nearly too late. Thankfully, though, the two Scotsmen only ever needed an apology from her in order to forgive and forget.

Mick knew her irritation at them was still somewhat justified anyway.

"In that case, are you good to work with us?" He asked her, raising an eyebrow, "Listen? Collaborate?"

She nodded without hesitation.

"Good. Now look: You're right, Em, we COULD'VE said something, and now that you've mentioned it, maybe it WAS our bad that we didn't." Sharing a look with Daniel, he looked back at her and shrugged, "Say we had spoken up, though...WHAT could we have said? The only evidence that Rosie even messed up was her choice of words to you, and even then, there's no available proof that she intentionally tried to give you anything but the message to not go onto the turntable. On top of that, the way she countered you and the way Thomas seemed to immediately understand and justify her distorted words right off the bat was like telling everyone present that it really was the same message with slightly different words." He bowed his head, sadly, "And besides, even if we DID have something, I doubt anyone would've believed us."

"They wouldn't?" Emily was stunned at that revelation, "Why not? You two are among the hardest workers both on and off the rails!"

"Very true, but where credibility is concerned, we would've only been able to have a leg to stand on if it was one of us or another human Rosie had gotten into that sort of predicament- OFF the rails. On the rails, though, tell me: Who are we usually associated with?"

"Me?" Emily blinked, not quite getting it, "Because I'm your engine?"

"Exactly. No one would've believed a word we said on the job because we're YOUR crew, and anything WE could've said in YOUR defense would've only been taken as desperation to get YOU out of trouble."

Daniel nodded, "It wouldn't have made a difference. In fact, WE might've gotten into trouble right along with you." He sighed, looking at his partner, "Maybe we should've taken a fall?"

His partner hummed thoughtfully, "Perhaps..."

"No." Emily shook herself negatively, putting it together, "You're right. It wouldn't have made a difference. There...there really was no point in saying anything, so I can't ask you guys to risk your jobs for me."

Mick walked up and patted her buffers comfortingly, "If Thomas had stuck up for you, though, THEN it would've been MUCH different with another well-known engine backing you up." He paused, "...Because you haven't really had a good reputation in those yards for awhile..."

Groaning, he put a finger to his temple, "Emily, I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you: The only reason you ultimately ended up getting punished today was because of the social grave you've dug for yourself."

"Social grave?" She blinked.

"Don't start to act like you don't know what we're talking about, not now. You've changed, lassie." Daniel explained, "You may still go and get your coaches from Knapford nearly every day of the week, but the reason Rosie is so much more charismatic with the workmen there is because she's a NICER and MORE-REPUTABLE engine."

Emily's eyes dulled even more with sadness, indeed already knowing the hard and full truth of what her fellow Scot was saying, "Oh…."

Mick looked at her pointedly, "Emily, before we came to Sodor and for the first year or so afterwards, you were among the nicest engines that anyone could ever meet. You were kind, motherly, SISTERLY, and before tonight, no one- NO ONE, not even us- had known that raw anger even EXISTED in your emotional dictionary. It seemed just that impossible. Yard managers, workmen, and especially Sir Topham Hatt all looked at you as a pride of the railway they worked for."

Daniel held up his hands, as if framing a newspaper headline, "Introducing Emily: Sodor's resident GNR Stirling Single Tender locomotive. Beautiful in both looks and personality."

"I think that actually WAS something of a headline at one point..." The driver commented.

"It was. It was the day after that one article was printed in the same section about Thomas's new 'ninety days without an accident' record."

"Oh yeah." He thought for a second, "I forgot Leo showed me that, actually."

"Not surprising, since it went back to zero the next day."

Despite herself, Emily allowed herself a small half-smile at hearing about the antics, but when the mental image of the blue tank engine performing them came to her, she frowned when she remembered their argument at the Steamworks as well as the events both preceding and following it.

Mick got back on the important track, "But anyway, it was completely true. You really did work hard and build yourself a good reputation with the foundation you were given. And that's just with work alone. With friends, there were few- VERY FEW, who shall not be named- who disliked you. You were approachable, you were helpful, and as another CERTAIN someone said (Emily cringed at that), you were an optimist. You could take a joke and even pulled some fast ones yourself. Even 'Arry and Bert had some respect for you- The scrapyard devils themselves! And Thomas and Percy? They could look at you like a big sister and Thomas actually called you his best friend." Taking a moment, he climbed up onto her buffer bar again and poked her forehead for emphasis, "BEST. FRIEND. Before you, Percy was the only one who held that title to him- at least officially. Even before you officially earned it, though, you three had become an inseparable trio- two brothers and their sister. You guys and others were all a real FAMILY, Em."

"But now…" He paused, not wanting to continue on the dark part, but he knew that he had to, "Now...because of..what happened...you've let it get to you so much that you've let yourself almost completely flip, become an engine NO ONE wants to be associated with. I don't fanatically believe in that whole 'honor and dishonor on your entire family and all your cattle' stuff, but there are a lot of people here who do to some degree. It shows with the fact that workmen no longer want to hold a conversation with you like they used to because of how rude and impatient you are with them. When you yell at them to hurry up in coupling you to your coaches, clearing the lines of debris, all of that, the only thing you'll get is polite formalities and inner resentment from them. Aside from us, the only humans you treat with respect most of the time are Sir Topham Hatt and our passengers." Mick shook his head, "That's just the situation among our bipedal race, though. You know: _Homo sapiens, humanitas, daonnachd_ -"

"Human beings. I get it, Mick." She huffed, rolling her eyes, "You're talking about my treatment of people just in your guys' species. I'm not stupid."

"Wasn't trying to say you were, girl, just wanted to make sure I was being clear," He shrugged, "because among engines- your OWN species, your OWN kind- it's much, much worse. Where you used to have endless amounts of it, now there's no respect at all- absolutely NONE- for the others you actually share this railway with on a daily basis: You're rude, mocking, and even overly-critical of everyone else that you called a friend before."

"Percy and Toby at the castle, all because you'd thought being a queen would be nice and you could boss them around like servants. Even your new form of play was hurtful." Daniel counted on his fingers, "There was also Molly on her first day, though I think it's best we don't relive THAT one too much. Then there was telling Thomas what to do- which, I might say, was a perfect example of trust lost from one day to the next- and inadvertently getting him into both danger and trouble with Sir Topham Hatt. My favorite example, however, was after that storm when you rudely whistled and snapped at everyone who was trying to clear the line for you. Thomas had to set you straight, and you listened then, but- surprise, surprise- he was the NEXT victim, at Knapford Sheds when he needed a place to stay. Come to think of it…" He counted off his fingers, looking up in thought, "Branch line...snowplough...shed...the milk delivery...Yeah, I think Thomas has suffered you the MOST, actually."

"He has?" Mick whistled in surprise, thinking back and realizing his partner was not kidding, "Yikes…I think that's right..." _But then again, it adds a bit more clarity into why he was behaving the way he was the other night...AND why he sided with Rosie._ He shook his head, _Talk about the sweet smell of revenge…._

Deep in his mind, however, something felt out of place with that line of thought. It honestly felt like there was something missing, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was exactly.

Emily, for her part, just looked down at her buffers again and winced at the cold hard truth she was being presented- truth which she of course already knew very well. Mick pushed his thoughts aside and waved his hand in her field of vision, prompting her to look up again, "Long story short, you went from rebuking him and Percy for hurting Salty's feelings to hurting almost everyone else, mainly their pride. Thomas is- WAS- constant, alright, but it seems what you say you value him for is not how you actually treat him, is it, girl?"

He frowned, that incomplete feeling hitting him again, _Darn it, what the heck even is that? Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something whenever I talk about Thomas?"_

"No…" Emily hated it, admitting that she was in the wrong on something, a hypocrite, but in this case the evidence was stacked too high against her. It only led to one conclusion as her eyes filled with tears. She sniffed, trying her hardest not to break down into a sobbing mess like she nearly did back at the yards, "...I'm a jerk."

Both men looked at her sadly.

"A jerk...a lousy friend...alone…" Her lip quivered, her voice becoming more and more strained as the words tried to come out while she instinctively forced them back with less and less success, "I really AM nothing now...nothing but a...a…"

The last part was whispered, so quiet the men could barely hear it: "...A bossy boiler."

"That about sums up how you've changed, yes." Daniel nodded.

She grit her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as more tears began to fall, rolling down her cheeks, "I didn't ask for it, though…I didn't WANT it…" She sniffed again, "I never wanted it at all, not any of this, and I HATE it...I HATE IT!" She wasn't screaming, but her crew still took a step back from the force in it as she continued, "It's all because of...THEM!" She took a deep breath, trying desperately to recompose herself without much success, "They were monsters, and...and…and now...now I'M a monster…."

"You're not a monster, Emily. You're bossy, but not EVIL." Her fireman shook his head, sighing as he realized he was now going against his own fearful behavior from earlier, when they had seen her in the Vexation Trance, "If you were really evil, you wouldn't be feeling like this about it- not even alone with just us. The real monster here is whatever demon possessed other engines to hurt you, to keep hurting you, and it seems…"

Mick nodded in agreement, "It seems that Thomas has finally- FINALLY- reached his limit with that demon, and the only likely embodiment of it that he knows of is you, not James or anyone else. You're responsible for what you've done to him, and he's quickly getting to the point where it doesn't matter who's really in the wrong or who started it, only that you're the one who pays the price for him being the victim. I honestly think Rosie's starting to get that way too."

"That's not fair, though!" She cried.

"Why isn't it fair, Emily?"

Why?" She whimpered, "It's because...Thomas and Rosie, they don't even understand. If they knew what...if they...they..." Her eyes snapped wide open at her own words, "They...they don't know…"

"Exactly. No one knows what happened to you, Em. No one but us and the conspirators." Mick wiped her eyes, "You haven't told anyone. But-"

"Mick, please," Emily looked at him, equal parts serious and afraid, "PLEASE don't tell me you're going to tell Sir Topham Hatt. He can't know." She gulped, thinking about the consequences, "He can't…."

"Don't worry. Daniel and I won't say anything to him."

"I still think Mick's being a bit dramatic about the effects it'll have, but I will admit," The fireman seconded, "telling him the details will bring more trouble than it's worth, especially with everything as chaotic as it is for us right now. On or off duty, all three of us are on thin ice with the railway higher-ups after today. None of us can take something like...well...THAT at the moment."

"He's right, so as always, we're with you to the end, Emily, and we're gonna keep that vow of silence we made for as long as you want us to." Mick concluded, "But...after seeing that look you had tonight, well...it wasn't you. So...I hate to say this, but it only further proves what Daniel was saying a few minutes ago as well: With everything that's going on now, and with how much worse this situation might get, we ALSO can't stay completely silent on this anymore. Not even leaving you to cool off in here helped tonight- and we all know well how it actually used to work."

"So, then…?" Emily didn't like where this was going, but she had promised them she'd listen first.

He sighed, kneeling down so that she couldn't avoid his gaze so easily, "Emily, you HAVE to tell somebody what happened- the whole story, all of it."

"What? All of it?..." She grimaced, "No. No, I-I can't."

"You have to. It doesn't have to be Sir Topham Hart, it can be-"

"I CAN'T, Mick." She shook herself, again just slightly so she wouldn't throw him off, a look of fear in her eyes, "Even if I WANTED to relive those particular memories in full for a single waking moment, no one- especially any of the other engines- will believe a word I say. You said it yourself. And just like today with Rosie...THEY will deny it. I'll be branded worse than not listening. I'll be labeled a liar, a tattletale..." She sighed, "Henry, Edward, Toby and Mavis, Oliver and Duck, none of them will listen…" She scowled, "I made sure of that..."

Daniel rubbed his chin for a second, then snapped his fingers, "Last I checked, I think Molly forgave you for making her first day a nightmare. You keep brushing her off, but she's still trying to approach you to this day. Maybe you can tell her? Make amends?"

Emily considered it, but again shook herself, "I told you both this before: James is too close to her, and...I could see it in her eyes." She thought about the affectionate glances the yellow engine had given that red monster in passing, affection she knew all too well, "She likes him, and I mean, she LIKES him. He never wronged her, but I have, so it'll still be my word against his, and if I say anything against him, he might easily get her to think...I honestly don't know. That I'm jealous? That I'm just trying to take something special away from her by making him look bad? Either way…" The next words stuck, having never been spoken before, "even though I actually WANT to fix things with her, I really can't trust Molly to know anyway, not after how I made fun of her. If not James, then it's the fun I poked at her that's enough for her to justify using my own problems against me, maybe even in a completely unrelated fashion for some completely unrelated reason. Blackmail, sabotage, things like that." She closed her eyes, "If there's one thing I know from today, it's that even kind engines can be cruel like that...given the right motivation..."

 _Can't really argue that, especially with what Rosie said after she got off the turntable._ Her driver sighed, _When she said...what was it?_

The words they had heard from the pink engine slowly returned to his mind: _"You'd think that being trapped on a broken turntable would give you a change of attitude…"_

Even if it WAS true, it was still unnecessarily harsh on Rosie's part even if she didn't know the Stirling's predicament. Even THOMAS seemed like he wanted her to shut it right then. But then, of course, Rosie had to point out that he'd done the same thi-

Mick's mind stopped there, dead in the water, as he suddenly stiffened.

"Mick?" Daniel and Emily noticed his behavior, "What's wrong?"

 _Wait a minute…_ He wracked his mind, going over the tank engines' words that morning again in detail. He then thought back further, to when Thomas...at the Steamworks and…Knapford..., _No...that can't be….can it?_

"Mick…?" Emily gulped. Her driver was practically oozing a chilled aura that made her shiver.

"Emily," Mick slowly made a rewind gesture with his finger, "repeat that last part. What did you just say?"

"I said that even kind engines can-"

"Nono, before THAT." He shook his head, "What do you think Molly would do if you told her about everything that happened, most likely?"

"I said she'd probably use my own problems against me for some completely unrelated reason."

"You mean...you think she'll react in a similar way," Mick slowly looked her in the eye, "to how Thomas said he used that night run to prove a point about how you criticized his passenger runs and him talking to children during work?"

"Yes?" Emily blinked, confused, "I suppose..."

"And ALSO in a similar way to how Rosie put you in the bad light back at Knapford?"

Emily blinked, but she nodded, "I guess so…?"

"Come to think of it," He tapped his chin, looking at Daniel who'd mentioned it earlier, "You were right: James said he'd also been trapped on a turntable and forced to do some roundabouts."

The way that both engine and fireman shared a quick, puzzled glance (complete with raised eyebrows and possible silent communication over whether or not he had been drinking on the job that day) before looking back at him would've been hilarious if he actually wasn't trying to lead up to a point that was serious. After a second, the Stirling carefully nodded again in affirmation, "Yeah...he DID mention that." She shook herself, "I obviously didn't care to hear the details, though."

"So you don't know how it happened?"

"No."

"That's still okay, because I think I can make an educated guess." He tapped his forehead, "In my experience as a railway worker, the only thing that would cause a turntable to spin out-of-control like then and today would be a strong wind."

"Strong wind…?" Emily doubted it at first, but then remembered the sounds of the wind from that morning, "I guess that sounds about right. The wind DID pick up and spin me while I was stranded."

"Even then, however, Knapford's turntable should've been more resistant to wind than what it was. The coach shed is surrounded by buildings that would protect from the elements quite a bit, not to mention the forest outside of town that would already have partially done the job, hence why it's one of the sturdiest places for anyone to take shelter during storms. That means that shed's table would have to be VERY sensitive in order for wind to affect it- especially with an engine on it."

Daniel shrugged, annoyed, "Well, of COURSE it wasn't resistant to the windstorm this morning. We all found out the hard way that the turntable was broken."

"BUT we didn't know how broken because Rosie said it was safe for all engines to roll onto, and WHERE did Rosie give us that message?" Mick looked pointedly at the fireman.

"Outside of the Steamworks, when we were leaving from visiting...Thomas…" Daniel's eyes widened, "And Thomas was…the one who broke the turntable in the first place."

"And WHO witnessed him break it? In fact, who was the FIRST engine to go out of their way to let us all know at TIDMOUTH about what happened in KNAPFORD?" Mick asked, rhetorically,

"Rosie…" Emily whispered, her eyes also widening as she began to understand, "She told us. She even seemed to know that's why Sir Topham Hatt called us back home."

"Now...here's another good question." Mick scowled, "After the night run, where did Thomas sleep the other night? Because he sure as heck didn't come back to Tidmouth, as far as I know."

"T-There ARE a lot of sheds on Sodor." Emily reasoned, stuttering, "Maybe it's just a coincidence, maybe Rosie just so happened to witness it and...it's...it's all just a fluke." She gulped, "Isn't it?"

"What about the reason she was even arriving at the Steamworks, just as we were leaving?"

The Stirling leveled a glare at him, "Even if she was there to visit like we were, her being there to see Thomas wouldn't mean anything."

"No? Then answer me this, Emily." He looked her in the eye, "None of us told ANYONE anything about what happened between you and Thomas the other night, so how did Rosie find out?" He held up a hand as she opened her mouth, "And before you suggest that she just might've seen it from a distance, which she could have…" He inhaled deeply, then dropped the bomb, "explain how and why Rosie the Tank Engine, one of Sodor's other nicest engines and biggest GOSSIPS, both sided against you AND didn't tell everyone what Thomas did herself, when anyone could see that what he had done was uncalled for?" He looked at her, "If the fact that she just so happened to be a witness to him both that night and for the turntable isn't enough, why did she look at you and say, 'Or so I heard' as if you would've lied- INSTEAD of calling him out for nearly leaving his passengers behind?"

Emily's nervous expression slowly morphed into one of shock, not of awe but of the sort someone might have if someone else had walked up and slapped them. There was a hint of denial in there too, but beneath his feet he could feel her start to lightly tremble. For a long moment, all three were silent as these connections sank in.

"No….Oh no, no, no..." Daniel slowly shook his head, "You don't think…?"

"I DO think, especially considering the fact," That one absent thought from before finally crawled its way into his brain, "that unlike Thomas, Rosie suffered none of the major incidents from Emily that we mentioned. Compared to everyone else, she doesn't even know Emily that well on a personal level, either. No incidents, little experience, so even less justification than Thomas to-"

"No!" Emily shouted, starting to panic, "No..no...it HAS to be-! It can't be-! It can't be...THAT!"

"It can be, it most likely is," Daniel tore his hat off and furiously threw it to the ground, "and it TICKS ME OFF!" Seeing Emily cringe, he quickly calmed himself, but his own anger remained, "How did we not see this before!? This can only mean it wasn't..."

"The night run, the turntable, NOW it makes sense." Mick agreed, in a more subdued tone of voice, "These things, these...events weren't random...circumstances where Thomas and Rosie just took advantage of them."

He placed a finger to his temple, "They were PLANNED."

"So that's what's REALLY going on, then? A stratagem." The fireman muttered in disbelief, "A full-blown CONSPIRACY."

Conspiracy. The word left a very bitter taste in both Emily's mouth and soul- and unfortunately, it was one she had an extremely low tolerance for. Sure enough, her slight trembling increased to become even more obvious. That was the outside effect, though. On the inside, in her mind, Emily's mind flashed to...all of it. The whole story…

The whole reason.

She banished the thoughts- the flashbacks- but the parallels were still unmistakable.

"It's happening again…." She whispered, tears welling up, "but instead of-" She gulped down a sob, "It's Rosie and….Thomas…" She squeezed her eyes shut, "No...please, no...anything but that again…I'll take anything...I'll SUFFER anything, but...not Thomas…." Her tears started to fall, "...not Thomas...It can't be true, Mick, it…" She choked back a sob.

"I don't WANT to believe it either, honestly, but…" Mick looked at her, dismayed, "Emily, I'm...I'm sorry, but now that we can see those pieces in place, I honestly think it is. It's hard to point them in any other direction." Stepping up, he wiped her eyes, "I really think Thomas is truly done with being your constant. What's worse...I think-"

"We BOTH think," Daniel cut in, with a defeated sigh, "he might very well be the leader."

"The leader…?" Emily whimpered.

"Yeah, considering the clues we have and just the...suddenness of it in the very least. On top of that, Rosie always did like to idolize him anyway, so given a good reason to turn on you in such an out of character fashion…well, no doubt she'd probably follow him through with it to the end."

"Why, though?" Emily wept. In her mind, images of Sodor's smiling number one flashed like photographs as mental recordings of their conversation at the Steamworks kept replaying over and over, "I told him-"

"You've told him a lot of things, made a few promises, but to be fair, you really haven't done a good job of keeping them lately." Daniel sighed, going behind her smokebox to sit down on her running board, "I guess he didn't believe you, or...something, which is probably why he managed to convince Rosie to help him instead of taking your word for it." He bowed his head, "This whole thing is just crazy, hard to swallow even. Engines striking back at you at random, THAT we expected, but a whole conspiracy and…" He trailed off, instead looking up at Mick, "...and that can only mean it might not even be just Thomas and Rosie, either. Who knows how many others are in on it with them. Thomas might be A leader, THE leader, there might be only be just them or a small group, THAT we don't know. Only its existence... the fact that it isn't ranom."

Mick nodded, caressing Emily's forehead to calm her as he tried to think.

"Even worse than that…" The fireman continued, "Today might not be anywhere near the last time we'll be subjected to whatever they're up to."

Emily whimpered, _It'll happen...again?_

It really WAS like…before. More humiliation and embarrassment, more engines against her- and, ultimately, more pain.

Emily clenched her eyes shut even more tightly, gritting her teeth, _I can't take it...can't take it….please...this CAN'T be happening!_ She looked up to Heaven, _PLEASE don't let it be happening!_

"This is NOT good. This is not good AT ALL." Daniel glanced at her with sympathy, and then at his partner again, "What are we gonna do? They might be seriously planning on really, REALLY hurting her, Mick."

The driver frowned. He didn't know at all. He had been in a lot of trouble in both his young and middle-aged human life, but never had he experienced anything like this, not on the railway. Back in Scotland, he honestly had never thought steam engines could even act like this towards one another. Diesels, maybe, but not each other, particularly since living in a progressive world where you could be scrapped at any economic moment usually necessitated working together to survive rather than finding ways to ostracize your fellow coal-powered engines. But, lo and behold, that logic was shown to not take effect on Sodor, and it resulted in what had happened to Emily to begin with. This whole thing with Thomas and Rosie was different, though, even with the similarities, because Thomas had been their friend first. The threat of more pain from them coming his engine's way did not help matters, and combined with the lack of experience in dealing with this sort of thing among engines led to his mind coming up almost blank save for the recent memory of their previous, interrupted conversation.

Mick didn't like that one bit, but he knew he couldn't come up with something else at the moment, not until they knew more about the storm that was probably coming. He decided to trust his gut for Emily's sake- just so she wouldn't have to hear the words 'I have no idea' again.

"I say…" He closed his eyes and nodded, "I say we carry on."

"Carry on?"

"We stay the course and stick to our original plan."

"What?" Daniel blinked.

"What?" Emily's eyes snapped open.

The driver nodded, coming to a final decision, "Okay, so the situation is worse than what we thought it was, but you know what, the plan hasn't really changed all that much, not as of right now."

"It hasn't? But Mick-" Emily looked at him like he was insane.

"No buts." He asserted, "I know it's not what you two want to hear, but it's the only option I can think of. We don't know anything other than the fact that there are at least two engines- one of them a good friend- have teamed up against us and might chase after us again with some kind of stunt. Until we know more, finding someone to talk to is our only plan of action if we don't want to risk telling Sir Topham Hatt." He glanced at Emily, "In fact, this makes finding someone to trust with what happened a bit more difficult, but at the same time all the more vital. You're obviously holding in a lot, Emily, have a lot on your mind and nowhere to turn for help, so you need a better foothold to cling to than just us. I can't stress that enough. That means finding another engine to spill the beans to. If this...conspiracy or whatever it is continues, well...if nothing else, you'll at least be able to have someone who is on your side or else you'll just break down entirely. A solid foundation means a stable building."

"But who, Mick? WHO can I go to NOW?" Emily snapped, glaring at him through her tears, "There's no one, and this just proves it even more than a minute ago! Even Sir Topham Hatt could be in on it for all we know!" She looked away, "Who else do you think? Victor, Edward, Henry...Percy?" She shuddered at that last one, unable to picture the green tank engine actively plotting against her for her actions, "I can't trust ANYONE on Sodor, it seems. We're not going to find anybody, either. Pretty much everyone hates me, and if Rosie's any indication, even those who don't openly show it could be taking part. Literally anyone could be in on this whole thing, with…" She sighed, "with Thomas's REVENGE bullying, I guess you can call it..."

"Just breathe, girl," Mick told her, "and let's try to actually finish weighing our options first, like we were just doing, okay?"

Emily looked unsure.

"OKAY?" He asked, looking at her sternly, reminding her of her promise to cooperate with them.

"...Okay." Blinking a few times to dry her eyes a bit more, leaving them red and puffy but dried out a bit, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, "Okay."

"Perfect. Now answer me this, girl: Is there really nobody?"

The female engine pondered long and hard, only give a single, slight bow forward in a nod, "I think so, yes."

"Okay, then let's make sure." Not about to give up that easily, he tapped his chin, "Are you certain about Percy?"

"Too close to Thomas. The two of them are like wheels attached to the same coupling rod." She muttered, "I can't picture it, but I still can't doubt the possibility he most likely IS involved. Heck, Thomas even said he was working with him this morning, which was why he was late."

"That's fair." Daniel agreed, "Edward?"

"Too close to Sir Topham Hatt, like Victor and Kevin. Enough said."

"What about Donald and Douglas?" Mick asked, then chuckled, "Heck, the two of them are even fellow Scots, so-"

"No. They won't listen, either. I saw Duck talking to them several months ago while we were waiting for that goods train at Dryaw, and judging by how the two of them started glaring at me, I'll give you three guesses as to who Duck was warning them about." The Stirling frowned at the mention of the Great Western engine, Duck being an engine whose respect was actually hard to lose for most engines, "Besides, they've both been scheduled to work on the mainland for the next several weeks, so they're not even on Sodor right now to hear it even if they wanted to."

"Wait, what? Wow...I actually had no idea about that thing with Duck. Did you, Mick?"

"No." The driver shook his head, surprised, "I didn't notice it. And Callum and Knox, Malcolm and Logan? None of them hinted at anything when we got together to play cards the other week. I think Duck was trying to keep that 'warning' about Emily between just the three of them."

"So there wouldn't be a hassle among the workers or us crewmen as they just started silently ostracizing her whenever they could." Daniel groaned. That was just like Duck on so many levels, separating wheat from the chaff subtly and without notice, "Well...on the positive side of things, it prevents Sir Topham Hatt from finding out based on fights between the six of us men and then...that whole apocalypse you mentioned coming to fruition by default. Duck never really did seem to like open confrontation and violence, after all."

"Yeah, but it's still two more engines we can't talk to now. Two more friends lost."

"They were already lost." The Stirling pointed out.

Mick rubbed his temple, "How about Henry?"

Emily considered the other green engine for a second, but then shook herself no, "He's just stopped talking to me altogether like most of everyone else."

"He's still not avoiding you as bad as some of the others are, though, and he might be willing to stop for a second and listen. After all, he isn't above reason and second chances."

"Maybe…" Emily knew that she and Henry had a few things in common and could see eye-to-eye on many things- or USED to, at least- but the truth was that even if he was neither going to brush her off like Duck and some others did nor tell Sir Topham Hatt, the strenuous jobs he did- including the late-night Flying Kipper- still left him tired and in need of a lot of rest. On top of that, despite not needing a lot of special coal anymore from what she had heard, he was still pretty sickly to boot. She wasn't about to add to his burden by telling him about her problems.

Especially since her problems were pretty much entirely centered around their home at Tidmouth in the first place.

She sighed, making a decision, "Henry's busy and tired enough as it is. He doesn't need to hear about more stress from me. I honestly can't bring myself to do that to him."

Daniel scratched his head, "We can't tell Sir Topham Hatt. We can't trust engines who are too close to James and them, and this entire conspiracy we've figured out." He groaned in frustration, sitting down on the grass next to the tracks and leaning his head back against the bottom edge of the Stirling's running boards, "The narrow-gauge engines?"

"There is no- NO- force in Heaven or on earth," She shot a dirty look at him, "that will make me confess anything within earshot of DUNCAN."

"Oh..."

"Duncan IS pretty nosy and boastful. Try to talk to Skarloey, Rheneas, Sir Handel, Rusty, or even Stepney at a whisper, and BOOM, he's probably going to hear about it, maybe even tell others" Mick rolled his eyes, "He's also got his own collection of black marks on his record, so he's probably one of the last engines we'd want to associate with right now."

Daniel facepalmed, "Yeah...forget I even suggested that. But with how tight-knit a community Sodor's railway is in general, that pretty much covers everyone trustworthy, you two." He paused, then raised a finger, "Wait, how about Tob-?"

"Toby, Mavis, AND Salty are both too close to either Thomas, Rosie, or one of the other ones who are in the same category. Toby is close to both him AND James." Emily deadpanned.

Slowly, her fireman lowered his hand. Thinking again resulted in his brain being completely void of ideas, and he sighed, "Are you SURE there's nobody you think you at least wanna RISK talking to, Em?"

Emily looked down, depressed, "I'm sure." She sniffed, "Unless you two can somehow come up with someone I haven't thought of."

Both men considered those words, continuing to think about any and all options they had and didn't have, which was unfortunately more the latter than the former at this point. Mick wracked his mind, _It needs to be an engine. Emily's problem rests among the rest of them and they're the only ones who will fully understand the issue culturally. Besides, she doesn't personally know many humans aside us, some of the children, and perhaps just a few select others._ He scowled, _Oh come on, you braindead dolt, you seriously can't think of anything else either? There's gotta be! Yet...pretty much everyone's lost faith in her. He looked up to Heaven, Please God, just one spark of inspiration if all I ask. If You need us to go to Sir Topham Hatt after all...I suppose it's all we can do. But please, for her sake..._

The driver was spiritual, but even with his strong faith, he knew better than to always expect immediate answers to his prayers as he continued to ponder everything going on for the millionth time that day. By that point, everything was so well-looked over that it was as beaten down as a dirt footpath was.

The other night, when Thomas made Emily look like a fool in front of the passengers by using her own words against her, which itself had seemed like just another "normal" day.

Their argument at the Steamworks the previous day, where Thomas had (admittedly very well) justified why he had done it. That one stuck with him the most, especially when they saw the look on his face as Emily left him with those words about his cheekiness being a threat to the railway- words that she wouldn't have uttered or even pretended to believe a few years before. She had pretty much called him immature and even weak, and at the time, both Mick and Daniel had actually felt sympathy for the tank engine.

But then twelve or so hours had passed, leading them to that morning: Rosie insisting that she get Emily's coaches for her, no doubt to goad Emily into taking the bait; Emily getting trapped on the turntable and spun until she was long past nauseous and dizzy; Thomas arriving after it was over, giving a hypocritical excuse over why he was late and (undoubtedly) acting surprised while Rosie made Emily look like an idiot; Thomas shutting her up and asking-

 _Hold the phone._ His eyes lit up, _Thomas...actually asked Emily if she was alright. He even seemed concerned._ He frowned, _That doesn't fit, not with everything else. He made Emily look like a fool, and if he's really leading this, then he would've proceeded to break the turntable on purpose, knowing what was gonna happen._

And yet, Thomas hadn't verbally gone after her like his fellow tank engine had. He had sided with Rosie, but instead of accusing Emily, he had simply played like the message sounded right and then expressed concern- a much different attitude, unlike before the night run.

 _I wonder why that was._ Mick scratched his chin, _He and Emily didn't talk again that we know of. In fact, the last time we talked to him was at the Steamworks, and…oh boy...what did he say to Emily? He asked...what changed? Yeah, that's it! He asked why Emily seemed to hate his pranks instead of actually playing along like she used to. He almost seemed...nostalgic...like he wanted those days back…_

 _Wait a second...nostalgia?_ The cogs in his head started to turn faster, _Rosie mentioned a change of attitude, but she wouldn't have known Emily's personality before any of this. She arrived months after the fact. That's the sign that she and Thomas are working together, but…'you'd think'? It's almost as if Rosie was hoping for Emily's attitude to change after she got off the turntable, almost like she was angry and disappointed..or acting like it, and yet...Thomas shut her down before she could get too far into it._

He looked next to him at Emily's face, still downtrodden, _Thomas obviously was trying to make sure we didn't figure anything out, but...come to think of it, what exactly ARE they doing this for?_

Rosie mentioned a change of attitude.

Thomas showed nostalgia for the good old days.

Both seemed to possess knowledge- possibly from Thomas- of what Emily was like before. And yet, they humiliated Emily, because…because…

 _Because they hate how she changed,_ The Scotsman realized, his eyes widening, _and they want the old her back. And if Thomas really is leading the charge…then that really means HE wants the old her back more than anything. And Emily..._

He smiled, looking up into the darkened sky with a thankful gaze. Maybe some prayers were instant, after all, _Maybe...just maybe...we're looking at this conspiracy wrong. Maybe...it's NOT a copy and paste of before..._

This was only a theory, though. There was only one way to find out if it was true...

"Daniel," He looked down at where his partner sat, "could I talk to you for a second." He looked at his engine, "Could you excuse us, Emily?"

"Sure?" She blinked, watching as the two men both got their feet on the ground and walked away a few meters. Once they were out of earshot, her driver leaned in really close and began to whisper to her fireman. Even though the emerald engine couldn't hear what they were saying, she still observed their facial reactions to try and guess what they could've been talking about.

After a minute, she felt her anxiety rise just a few levels when she saw Daniel's face change to a dumbfounded expression.

Then, as Mick continued talking, his mouth widened into a grin.

 _Oh boy…_ Emily gulped, watching as the men then began to whisper back and forth to one another, glancing at her every now and again in the process. She loved them both dearly, but she knew very well that when her fireman smiled like that, one or both men could easily become the devils on her piston- which meant that if her driver had come up with an answer for their current predicament, it was NOT going to be one she liked.

Finally, they nodded to one another and came back over to her. Standing in front of her, yet another moment of silence passed as they looked at her.

Emily looked back and forth between them, "Well?"

"Emily," Mick began slowly, "I think- I don't know for sure- but I THINK there's actually one option we have for you."

"Really?" Emily didn't want to get ahead of herself and start hoping, but she couldn't keep it from coming into her voice a little bit, "What is it?"

"Well...that depends on a few things. For starters, you mentioned that you can't tell Molly because she's too close to James, and that makes perfect sense." Her driver continued, "It also makes sense why you wouldn't tell Percy, Edward, Henry, all of them, but…" He shared a look with Daniel, "while you mentioned that Percy is too close to Thomas, I have to ask you something: Before any of this happened, is there any reason why you didn't want to tell him and Thomas anything about what happened in the first place?"

"I…" Emily pondered that one for a second, but for the life of her couldn't come up with an answer. She had never actually had to consider it before, yet she thought back to just a full week prior when things were a bit more normalized (normal considering her change, of course) and she realized her driver was once again correct, _Why DIDN'T I ever try to tell Thomas and Percy? Because I didn't want them involved? She sighed bitterly, Yeah right...they're involved anyway...against ME. It's not like I was trying to sacrifice myself to protect them like in some sort of movie. Maybe…yes. Yes, that's right..._

She looked at Mick, "I guess...it was probably because I didn't trust them to know. Not like the way I wouldn't trust Molly to know, but...I wouldn't want them...doing anything."

"Anything like what?" Her driver asked, raising an eyebrow.

"...Defending me or...copying me." She deeply felt like a hypocrite as she said it, "Percy and Thomas...they're my best friends and...I love them both, but they- no, ALL of us- tend to be hotheaded at times. I mean, remember when we were struggling to help get the airport built? The total bashing and biffing war that Diesel and Thomas started on that one day? Diesel covered Thomas in paint, but Thomas got so mad he instead took it out on the first diesel he saw, which was 'Arry. I don't like him or Bert much either, but...Thomas took his anger out on someone who wasn't even involved."

"Not to mention the fact that the diesels didn't particularly come after you and Percy, either, and yet you two hit a couple of them pretty hard yourselves." Daniel actually chuckled, remembering how the Stirling had snuck up on Diesel and attacked from behind.

"Yes, but it only proves my point of how we were quick to follow Thomas's lead because we were all mad at most of the diesels." She told him, "On top of that...Henry also once told me about a time when Cranky was knocked over in a storm. Thomas and Percy helped him, but when Cranky offended them for being tank engines, Percy acted too quickly and accidentally pulled him over again."

"'Accidentally'?" Mick mouthed in disbelief, remembering hearing that story from James' crew back when they were on…TOLERABLE terms, but not with such a forgiving word, _If that was an 'accident', what exactly have those two done that was intentional?_ He paused, _Nope. Not going to think about that right now. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear, as they say…._

"Both of them acted rashly, just like…" She sighed, "just like me." A flashback filled her eyes, "Thomas was right. I'm- I WAS cheeky, I DID have fun with his jokes, even pulled a few of my own before this whole nightmare got worse and worse." She looked down, "I guess I was afraid of telling Thomas and Percy because...I didn't know how they would react. Would they follow my lead and become bossy themselves? Would they start a war among us steam engines just to get back at…" Her nose scrunched in disgust, "I don't know, and I guess I really didn't want to find out or make things worse. I suppose I thought it was better to...suffer in silence, defend myself on my own."

"Not so silent anymore," Daniel muttered, "and not so defensive either."

"I know, but...you asked and that's all I can really say."

"So...you think you were afraid to tell them at first…" Mick repeated her main points to clarify, "because you were afraid they would actually make things worse for you? For themselves? You wanted to keep quiet, keep things on the down-low, just so that things might die down?"

Emily thought for a moment, then nodded, "Every time I think it's over and try to go back to...myself, the whole nightmare just started all over again. THEY just started all over again. I guess...I guess I just stopped trying and…" She looked back at herself, from tender to cab, "look where I am now. In a siding with only you two for company, with a shed of former friends and current enemies being the only other thing waiting for me when we leave."

"Tell me something, Em, do you regret letting yourself change like that?"

"Mick, I've regretted a lot. Regretting things seems to be the ONLY thing I'm good for right now. I have no friends, no reputation, I've been made to feel utterly worthless in every way, I've been humiliated two times now, and not a moment goes by where I actually just want to break down into a sobbing mess and just give up." She scowled, "I want things to just be normal again, I want Tidmouth to just be my HOME, with friends- FAMILY- and though I never told Thomas anything, I always thought that with him as a constant, I'd have a chance. I abused that chance, though, and if he's conspiring against me now, then it seems that things going back to normal is impossible." She groaned, "I was sent here to Sodor, promised a better life, but when I try to embrace it, I'm instead hit hard where it hurts the most and the only solution was to…be a new Emily. Now I'm stuck like this, with a gang of who knows how many other engines- led by my former BEST FRIEND- coming after me. Forgive me for being pessimistic, but who knows: In order to fight back, I might have to stay this way forever."

"I doubt that." Mick smiled.

"Oh really?" She huffed at her driver.

"Yep." Daniel nodded, "Emily, we have a feeling that what you want isn't as impossible to get back as you think."

"How so? According to you two, the best place to start is finding someone to talk to, but we just went over pretty much everyone we can think of- not that it wasn't very many to begin with." She rolled her eyes, defeated, "Face it, you two, it's hopeless. So again, I ask: Who could you possibly have in mind that would be able to actually help make all of this go away?"

"And again, that depends: What are your criteria?" Daniel countered.

"Criteria?"

"You told us why you couldn't tell your own best friends before, so just so we can be sure," Mick reasoned, "what kind of engine DO you see yourself talking to, sharing all of this with?"

The emerald engine never hesitated, "It would have to be someone I trust deeply, but also someone who won't talk to Sir Topham Hatt like Edward or make fun of me behind my back. They'd also have to be an engine who will know I'm being honest and...not listen to any gossip or warnings like Donald and Douglas listened to Duck."

"Anything else?"

Emily thought of Henry, "They'd also have to be someone who has the time and energy to put up with me, with all of this, in the first place."

Her driver grinned as if he'd won a lottery, "Well then, Emily, what Danny and I have is the PERFECT engine for you to talk to after all."

Daniel shared his enthusiasm, "AND it's also someone you haven't considered yet."

"I doubt both of those things," She stared at him sadly, and also a little impatient with how much they were leading into it, "but alright, enough delay. Who is it?"

The two glanced at each other, and then back at her before then simultaneously uttering just one name:

"Thomas."

"..."

"..."

"..."

In the long period of silence that followed, the two humans and the engine simply stared at each other, the latter with a blank expression while the former were both smiling wide with expectation.

Finally, speaking slowly, the Stirling broke the silence after what seemed like half an hour, "I'm...very sorry, you two, but...come again? I could've sworn you just said that the engine I should talk to is THOMAS."

"We DID say that, Em." Mick nodded.

"Thomas, as in my best friend….?"

"Yep!" Daniel affirmed.

Emily frowned, cross, "BUT who is RIGHT NOW the tank engine most likely leading a conspiracy against me with who knows how many other engines to prove who knows what exactly? The biggest problem on all our minds? THAT Thomas?"

"There's only one of him on Sodor." Her fireman nodded.

Emily inhaled deeply, closing her eyes meditatively, then slowly let out an exhale, "Mick, since you're obviously the one who came up with it first, could I ask you a question?"

"Go right ahead." He nodded.

Her eyes snapping open, Emily rolled up until she was looking down the bridge of her nose at him, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!?"

Mick wanted to say her screaming at him had no effect, but the truth was it still made his ears ring as he stood his ground, "Not that I know of. Last I checked, I was clinically sane.

"Well, you need a re-evaluation, because I can write a BOOK," The emerald engine growled, "about all the ways in which that is the WORST idea in the history of bad ideas- and trust me, I've heard about some terrible ones."

"'Write a book,' she says…" Daniel muttered, shaking his head, "Emily, you don't even have HANDS."

"Not LITERALLY, you-! I KNOW I can't-! Ugh...nevermind." She turned her glare back onto Mick, "No. It's not happening."

He facepalmed, "Emily, will you PLEASE just hear us out before saying that so quickly?"

"Not if it's not helpful in the slightest!"

"You don't even know WHY we're suggesting it. Besides, we did mention rethinking our approach, didn't we?"

"And what happened to collaborating with us, hearing us out?" Daniel put in.

Emily paused with reluctant consideration before she then backed off. Her irritation remained, however, "Okay, fine, since you two obviously forgot our main issue here: Why should I tell Thomas, of all engines? Even before it got this bad, I already mentioned why I wouldn't tell him and Percy. Now, for all it's worth, he's made himself an ENEMY. He WANTS to be my enemy. It's like you said about him being done with acting as my constant. He's even leading the charge, for goodness sakes, at least from what we've gathered so far. She looked away sadly, "Yeah, he used to fit the criteria and maybe if I could I would go back and tell him regardless, but...he hates me now."

"The key word in all of that," Her driver said, "is 'now'. Thomas hates you NOW."

She raised an eyebrow, "I don't follow…"

"Emily, after you got off the table and got your coaches, what did Thomas do?"

"He…" Emily thought about it, "He...asked me if I was okay?"

"Good. What else?"

"I don't know." She shook herself, unable to recall Thomas doing anything else, "All I can really think of is him siding with Rosie."

"Look between the lines: When Rosie was talking smack, did he join in? No, he asked if you were okay, and THEN told her to be quiet. In fact, unlike the other night," Daniel spoke up, "I actually can't recall a single second of this morning where he was actually hostile against you. Sided with Rosie, maybe, but no hostility towards you like what she treated you with."

"And yesterday, at the Steamworks." Mick nodded, "Before you left...he brought up the time he hid everyone's freight cars around the yard, but in the end, he wasn't actually trying to only justify his actions, not at that moment."

He reached up and laid a hand on her buffer beam, "At the end, he actually wanted to know why you were so angry with him that day compared to then."

Emily's eyes grew large as she remembered the conversation, especially Thomas's final question to her: _"What's so different about this prank and accident that you suddenly treat it like a bane on your existence?"_

And her answer: _"I'm honestly surprised that Sir Topham Hatt hasn't started punishing you in the worst ways imaginable…"_

She winced. That...she had said a lot of questionable things in the past- or rather, the RECENT past- but there was no question that that response had been simply MEAN. In fact, Emily knew very well that if she went over every last word of what she'd said to the blue number one, she would of course find more offensive than defensive words whereas she could see the opposite in Thomas's.

Especially her own last words to Thomas as she was leaving: _"It would probably get done a lot faster if we also SHARED some of the privileges we have with one another, wouldn't it?"_

That had especially hurt Thomas, she could see that clearly, but she couldn't help but admit that it hurt her too to bring up Annie and Clarabel like that. At the time, it had been automatic, intended to keep her from showing weakness where..THEY might've seen it- exactly like clockwork- but if there was one thing Emily had always hated, it was hypocrisy. Absolute remorse flooded her boiler like murky water, knowing very well that she was protective of her coaches as well, especially if her conversation with Rosie before that morning's incident was any indication of it.

Out of the two of them, Emily had been the hostile one for the past couple of days, not Thomas.

And out of the past SEVERAL days alone, including the other night with the passengers, Thomas's hostility towards her was a small annoying smudge compared to everything she had said to him.

"Emily," Mick got her attention, "I'll ask again: Do you REALLY want to change? Go back to being...you?"

"More than anything. You guys both know that." She answered, wondering how many times they were going to make her admit it.

"Well, if I'm interpreting his actions and words right," He shrugged, "so does Thomas. Maybe this isn't a conspiracy to just...attack you or make you look like you're a fool. Maybe...and this is still a big maybe...but maybe Thomas is doing this to show you that he feels the same way as you do about yourself. Maybe he hates who you are now, and wants who you used to be."

Emily huffed, scowling, "Is doing similar to what caused me to turn into THIS in the first place really his way of saying that. Why couldn't he-" She stopped herself right there, her words to Thomas still stuck in her mind as an answer, _I guess he couldn't just come up and tell me…_

Thomas wanting the same thing that she did was…she supposed it was a somewhat-reasonable justification for his and Rosie's behavior, but at the same time, Emily wasn't sure if she was ready to trust that theory. For all she knew, Thomas probably gave up all nostalgia after the Steamworks- and that was assuming nostalgia was even a factor. Telling him, if they were wrong, would most likely lead to the same results she feared from Molly- maybe even worse.

And in her experience, 'maybes' were always dangerous. You could never count on them, especially if there were a lot of them present. It was like a child staying up late after hearing a certain weather report, only to find out he still had school the very next day. The Stirling had trusted maybes far too many times for her liking.

Now, she couldn't trust them as far as she could biff them.

Seeing her trepidation, Mick smiled encouragingly, "We can't say we empathize, Emily, but we can say we understand how it feels. For all we know, even with the evidence looking us in the face, there's the slight chance we might even be looking too deep into it and there is no conspiracy at all, much less Thomas doing it because he wants the old you back. We could be wrong about everything." He shared a nod with Daniel, "But, in the end, don't you think he at least deserves some closure on YOUR behavior towards HIM? After all, like we said, he HAS suffered you and your changed attitude the most."

"But...what if he…?"

"IF he uses it against you, then it's his loss. If he thinks that he still has the right to keep hurting you like this, then obviously he wasn't a real friend to you in the first place. And…" Daniel trailed off, looking at Mick, "You tell her."

"Emily, another reason we want to suggest Thomas was because…you lost your reputation, a lot of what you built. In retrospect, though, a lot of your success...a lot of what you have now…" Her driver shrugged, "It was because of Thomas that you have- HAD- all of it. On your first day, you accidentally took his coaches, but that means he was the one sent to retrieve and help gift you your own. He was the one who encouraged you to do the Black Loch Run, despite how afraid you were, and now it's your favorite route along with working alongside him on his branch-line. On top of that, the time you and him spent together with Percy, all of you being cheeky to a point, having best friends like them gave you a way to express yourself and earn the respect of the workmen and most of the other engines in the first place- not to mention times such as when you rightfully scolded them for making fun of Salty-"

Daniel cleared his throat, and when Mick turned to look at his partner, the fireman gestured towards something off to his left. Following his gaze, the driver's eyes landed on the gleaming silver of Emily's front buffer.

"There were also times you shared that were special for just between the two of you. That's including," Mick tapped the buffer, "these."

All resistance left the Stirling's face. Memories- not the bad ones- almost seemed to be flashing through her eyes like a car's headlights through a window.

Her coaches. Her friendships. Her favorite passenger route. All of it…

Emily looked down at her buffers.

She remembered very well that she had come to Sodor with bronze ones.

Finally, she sighed, _Mick's right._

The female engine had to face it: No matter what she thought about regarding her life on Sodor, Thomas was always involved in some way, even after she had pushed him and Percy away so long ago. And no matter how much things continued, for better or for worse, that cheeky tank engine was most likely always going to be involved in her life somehow. On top of that, Thomas also fit the criteria of an engine she could speak with- perfectly, in fact, especially in regards to...putting up with her…

 _At least…that's a theory…._ Emily knew that the weight of Thomas's actions and his alliance with Rosie were still reasons to be skeptical. But...if the blue engine was actually appearing to be the only option she truly had, then her driver and fireman were both right. She had to put in some effort to get this nightmare to end, and if that meant taking a big risk…

 _But what if he talks anyway, though? Tells someone or…?_ The Stirling gulped.

"Well, Emily?" Daniel asked.

She sighed, "I still don't know, you two. It's just...I know I have to take a risk, but at the same time I still can't trust anyone like Thomas to know about why I'm like this. All we have is a theory, All we know is that it's me versus him. It's a war." She looked up at the night sky, "And you know they say that all's fair in it. Thomas might actually be out to get me for no reason other than to hurt me, get revenge for how I treated him for so long now and make me feel that pain tenfold. How do I really know whether or not it's like that? And again, like you said, the evidence we have based on how Rosie acted might not be evidence at all. Even if I muster up the courage to be alone with and tell him, that's firing my only shot in the dark that either misses and he and Rosie use my own words against me- again- or it hits and he helps me." She frowned, "Everything is just so...confusing right now. I can't tell Thomas anything unless I can at least be sure I won't miss the shot. Even if it's not a bullseye, even if he won't help, the least I want to know is if he can keep it between us, but…" She groaned, "I don't know how."

"Well...you're not wrong." Mick frowned, "But...pulling the trigger IS the only way we'll know. To be sure without actually firing is impossible."

"Actually…" Daniel's eyes lit up, "I think it IS possible."

"Wait, what?" Mick looked at him, dumbfounded, "How?"

"Yeah, how?" She agreed.

Daniel turned and began to slowly pace as he continued to think deeply, "Em, you compared what's happening now to a war, and…you remember how my mind likes to wander from topic to topic?"

"All-too well." The female tender engine nodded, "You're one of several I know."

"Well, when you mentioned that bit about Thomas making himself the enemy and pulling triggers, I started thinking about my grandfather." He glanced at her, pointedly, "He fought in the Great War. Trench warfare, machine guns firing all around him, his fellow soldiers dying by the second. It was absolute hell, based on the stories he told me."

Emily blinked, just a little bit unnerved by the mental image she received from that, "I'm not sure what's happening here on Sodor is even as bad as THAT, but...go on."

"Well, there was one story in particular he always liked to go back and dwell on." Her fireman nodded to himself, "The Christmas Truce, when the soldiers in some areas left the trenches en masse and actually spoke to one another cheerfully in the no man's land. Sure, they went back to fighting each other's armies later, but at that moment, my grandfather always liked to tell how peaceful it was."

Emily gave a half-smile. "It really sounds like a cherished moment, at least for the soldiers in that part of the trench."

"It was. If there was any fighting or arguing during that time, it was the sort that you'd expect from between family, friends, and neighbors. There were football games, presents exchanged, laughter and chatter all around. It wasn't just playful, though. There were also burials and prisoner swaps, still plenty of serious business performed as well, so it's not like the war had entirely ended." He stopped pacing, "The way my grandfather experienced it, though, he told me that both sides in his zone were reluctant to speak to one another. They had looked at one another, guns raised, and were only willing to take part in the truce when both sides' commanding officers came out with their hands up. Only when they both agreed to the truce did they go out there." He looked pointedly at the emerald engine, "Is this starting to sound familiar? Like you, my grandfather's unit wasn't sure if they should try and talk directly to the German forces no matter how good of an opportunity they seemed to have. Unlike what you are saying with taking a chance, though," He spoke to the driver, "they had experienced bullet-storms quite enough to know they might've been killed if they took a shot in the dark and missed. Instead, they kept the rifles up until they were sure they didn't need to use them."

"So…?" Emily looked at him inquisitively.

"I'm saying that both sides were technically still enemies, but they agreed to meet in the middle for a short while on decent terms. That's why it was called the Christmas Truce and not the Christmas Cease-Fire, because it was just that: A TRUCE." He held up a finger, "You want a way to find out if Thomas can keep a secret? There you have it."

"A truce…?" Mick smiled, "You know, I actually didn't consider that." He looked at Emily, "Danny's got a point. What if you convince Thomas to agree to something along those lines before you tell him anything?"

"Will that even work the same as it did during the war?" Emily asked, doubtful.

"That's where we WILL have to take a bit of a risk, but Thomas has always been a cheeky yet honorable sort of engine. His yes usually means yes and his no usually means no. Like I said earlier, if he lets something like this get out when you've told him not to, then he never had the right to call himself your friend." Mick said, "Besides, I'm still very certain that you and him want the same thing. So...if you do it right and propose a truce, he might agree and then you can talk to him on even, neutral terms."

"If he disagrees with a truce," Daniel grinned, "then you don't have to tell him anything and…" He frowned, "Well, in the very least, you'll know a bit better if it'll be hit or miss."

None of them had to nor wanted to bring up the question of what they would even do if Thomas said no.

 _We just have to do it right, make the right approach._ Mick thought to himself. _We'll most likely be at the end of our rope if he disagrees, but...let's try not to worry about that._ The driver sighed, "Well, what do you say, Em?"

The uncertainty that remained on her face didn't change, especially as she no doubt thought back over the past few days. In the end, her desire to be herself again- coupled with their logic- seemed to win that skirmish. After a several long minutes of thinking, Emily's mouth formed a firm line as her gaze hardened- not with irritation or anger, but determination, "Are you both absolutely sure about this? Mick? Daniel?"

The driver and fireman nodded.

Emily looked back and forth between them, then took a deep breath, her eyes wandering up to the night sky. Through it all, every word they had shared that evening kept running in her mind. A part of her still wanted to back out, but…but...

If there's any hope that this can end for all of us...I guess…I guess talking to each other again would've been inevitable at some point. Better as a truce than as another confrontation or...humiliation. She frowned, At least I can look Thomas in the eye later and say that I tried, if...if he really IS acting based on nostalgia…

"...Okay, if you two are really sure it's a good idea, then...for now, I'll give you two the benefit of the doubt." She sighed with finality, then looked at them with as much determination as she could muster, "What's the plan?"

"For starters, we need to find an opportunity that you can talk to Thomas. Given the circumstances, trying to arrange a time and place ahead of time is a bad idea. We can't risk him setting us up again." Daniel tapped his chin, "We're going to just have to hope and pray that an opportunity arises that we can be alone with just him and his crew? Until then, though, absolutely no one else can know or hear about what we might tell him." He checked his watch and smiled, "But we'll worry about THAT later. For right now, I'd say we have about an hour and a half before we should be heading back to Tidmouth, and there are still a few OTHER things we'll have to work on in the meantime if we're really going to do this?"

Emily looked uncomfortable upon hearing that, "What other things?"

Mick smirked, "Emily, on the inside you want to change things, but that doesn't mean you haven't developed a few bad habits, namely a knack for letting your mouth get you into plenty of hot water."

"And if you're going to even have just a little bit of success in getting Thomas to accept a truce," Daniel rolled his eyes, "we ARE going to have to work on improving your attitude while we have the chance, at least with the way you talk to other engines. He most likely won't talk to the new you, but rather something of the old you." He suddenly snapped his fingers, "Oh, and before I forget, on the way back, I need you two to stop by the end of Black Loch."

"Um...why?" His partner blinked.

"Just you two wait and see. For now, though," He rubbed his hands together, "let's get started."

"With…attitude adjustment? Alright, I guess." She nodded, "Um...how do we start?"

"It shouldn't be too hard to make you more approachable, so let's begin by talking about the nicest- truly nicest- thing you've said to Thomas or another friend recently- and NOT a condescending compliment about how he 'improved'. That doesn't count."

The Stirling bit her lip as the two Scotsmen watched her think hard….

...and think…

...and think…

…

…

…and think.

"Uh...Em?" Daniel reached up and tapped her cheek, getting her attention, "You DO remember the last nice thing you said to him...right?"

"Yes…" She answered, slowly.

"And...I'm afraid to ask, but…how long ago was it?"

Mick was unsurprised. He couldn't even remember the last time, not like Emily could. For him, she had just seemed unwavering in how unpleasant she had been to their friends and coworkers, unable to turn that switch off, _I'm calling my bets on...eight months ago?_

Emily gulped, then smiled sheepishly, "A year."

 _...Well...I was always bad at gambling, anyway._

Daniel stared at their engine, intently, "...Are you actually serious? Not even one SLIP back into your old self since?"

Her smile fell, replaced with a shameful nod.

"Not even this past winter?" The Stirling usually ALWAYS managed to find someone to chat with during Christmas and New Year's, at least casually.

"...I actually didn't talk to anybody." She admitted, "I kept to myself."

"Oh boy…" Mick muttered. In the tense silence between engine and fireman that followed, the driver removed his hat and crossed himself, realizing with dismay that this was probably going to take a lot more than just ninety minutes. Heck, with their luck, they'd probably be so tired when morning came that they'd have to take a sick day- and even THEN, if Sir Topham Hatt didn't scold them for unprofessionalism, Daniel would insist that they still work with Emily all the next day anyway instead of getting rest.

 _Oh well, it's for a good cause…_ He thought, _Sleep is for the weak, anyway. But Thomas,_ The Scotsman went over and leaned back against Emily's left-side running board, listening as Daniel began the painful process on instructing her, _for your sake, for everyone's sake, this plan had better work. Because if you don't help us, then I'm not about to let whatever scheme you're ultimately cooking up hurt her again..._

He looked up at the sky through the trees, scowling, _...To end this nightmare for her...we'll all leave Sodor and never look back, if that's really what it takes._

 **LONG NOTE WARNING!**

 **So…I WANT to say that it's just "been awhile", but the truth is…not only has it been more than a year since I last updated this story, it's been possibly one of the most eventful years of my entire life: A mission trip to end the school year, working part-time for income as well as summer classes (one of them a writing class, ironically), getting hours in my field in before the start of the fall semester, the fall semester of school itself, holidays with family, looking for a new job, the start of a pandemic and a quarantine- and throughout all of it, one of the thoughts ringing in my head is, "Will I ever be able to get this chapter done? I REALLY want to finish this story, but will I ever be able to?" Heck, it's been so long, it even seems that our favorite emerald engine in question went through a slight redesign in her appearance (though I'm not really sure I like it, to be honest). Well, despite all of that, here it is: Chapter 5B, and with it, the conclusion of Chapter 5 overall with possibly one of the biggest developments of the entire story (two if you put it together with James' side): Emily now has a big idea of what is going on with her friends, which is exactly what they feared happening (Seems like Rosie shouldn't have said anything, huh?), but will it go downhill like they expect? Will her crew's plan to make a truce with Thomas fail miserably or will it succeed? Are any of these plans, these alliances- their plan for a truce, Molly and James' plan to confess to Sir Topham Hatt, or the Table Turners- going to fulfill the goal of bringing the old her back freely? Well, I guess we'll just have to see, won't we? As always, I might be slow in getting future chapters out, but trust me when I say that I don't plan on the ending of this story coming out somewhere around 2045.**

 **For now, though, I want to deeply thank jriddle41 for reviewing this story and giving me some ideas. In fact, I want to thank all of you who PM'd and/or reviewed, because your continued interest in this story was what kept me from giving up. And as for the poll I had made, another thank you to those who answered on it (A lot of folks on here REALLY like Thomily, huh? Well, I'm sure not complaining about that!), because overall, if there's something I really like doing as a hobby, it's things like this. With that being said, I know a lot of you might have questions- maybe even some complaints- about this chapter. I understand that, which is why I encourage you to PM me with them. I feel like, that way, it's easier for me to address them personally. The same goes for anyone who has any suggestions for future chapters (not necessarily the actual stunts pulled on Emily). Please, do not hesitate to let me know if you do. I am easily inspired, especially in times of writer's block, so you guys will actually be helping me. You all are definitely a fantastic community.**

 **To finish up with this long author's note, though, I would like to briefly discuss some things about this chapter and the future ones incoming, just a few…I guess you could say "worldbuilding" details. I feel like you guys deserve to know my thought process a bit in writing and developing this story, especially since I waited so long to post this chapter. Again, anything you all want to contribute to this story is appreciated.**

 **1\. First off, yes, I have named Emily's driver and fireman Mick and Daniel respectively (not to mention the other five men they talked about). When I posted Chapter 5A, I actually didn't think it was a good idea to give names to the crews because I was afraid it would create sloppy scenes with too many names to keep track of. Then again, when it turned out that this chapter was going to be just Emily and the two of them, I just suddenly remembered from the scenes with Thomas and Molly, "Wait, Emily KNOWS these guys personally. Why am I still labeling them by their jobs?" There are even plenty of episodes showing engines and their crews have a close relationship with one another, and the whole reason I got back into this fandom in the first place was because I was interested in the connections between engines and human beings. So, at least for the time being, I'm going to give names to the otherwise-nameless human characters, but only when there are either a low amount of engines in the scene OR I'm writing from a perspective where their names shouldn't be known by another character. It's just to give them a little bit more depth, at least.**

 **2\. I said this in the last chapter, but again, I want to apologize if you guys were expecting flashbacks or anything revealing in this chapter. I still don't trust my writing abilities one-hundred-percent, but I promise that we'll get that point soon. I can't lie, though: If we were in Emily's position, would any of us really want to willingly delve into such painful past events, particularly in the sort of situation she's in with Thomas and the others where it's "happening again"? Personally, as annoying as it would be to others trying to help me, I wouldn't (not right away, at least), which is honestly why I opted for this chapter to be an entirely shared perspective rather than just Emily's POV as I had originally planned, as well as going more for dialogue than thought on her part. Simply put, I decided to make this a loose image of a counseling session, if that makes sense, making sure her crew could convince her to take action. Any repetition/redundancy present, though, specifically in talking about the things she's done and the regrets she has, I can't justify that and I feel like that's the biggest problem with this chapter. If you want the author's two cents, I honestly feel like this chapter is more LACKING than the previous updates, relying on dramatic irony but also a bit too much "show, then tell", non-conflicts, etc. You guys can be your own judges about it, though. I guess it comes with the struggle of not knowing what to write over the course of thirteen months.**

 **3\. Emily's "Vexation Trance". I actually had to start fresh on this chapter at one point because I didn't like where it was going and out of everything, this was the one thing I wanted to keep, mainly for how I came up with it as an idea (If you guys ever want me to tell you about THAT little moment of inspiration, I'd be more than happy to, because it's kind of funny to me). I will say this here, though: This chapter is not the last we'll see of it in this story, and when we see it again, it WON'T be just an unconscious expression that Emily is making [insert evil laugh here], because there IS a deeper meaning for it. I strongly suggest praying for the next character who you think might come face to face with it. Will it be Thomas? James? Who knows….**

 **4\. To those (particularly the few who suggested it) who are disappointed that Emily won't go to Molly on account of how close she is to James, don't worry. I mean, just because she won't talk to Molly about her problems doesn't mean she, Molly, and James won't interact. In fact, as I said above, there are now officially three factions (Emily and her crew, James and Molly, and the Table Turners- Toby, Mavis, Thomas, and Rosie), and I plan on Molly and James working together to help Emily in their own way. What can they do if it's not yet the right time for James to confess his crimes to Sir Topham Hatt? Well, who's the say our yellow engine can't be cheeky herself?**

 **5\. Going back to the poll, where I asked if there would be romance between Thomas and Emily in this story, I have finally decided that there will be maybe hints of it here (because I just can't help myself) and definitely in future stories that focus more on it, but Thomas and Emily are NOT going to end up together by the end of this story here. It just doesn't exactly fit with the overall themes I'm going for in Bossy Boilers, which are mainly friends, family, and redemption. I encourage you to keep reading if you want to, though, because trust me, it's gonna happen eventually- and like I just said, there WILL be hints of it beginning to develop, starting with Thomas and Emily's next major interaction.**

 **There are other things I would've liked to mention, but frankly, those are the big looks into my mind I wanted you guys to see and I've talked for long enough as it is, so I'm gonna conclude this here. Until next time, folks, when we finally- FINALLY get back to our pal Thomas in Chapter 6 of Bossy Boilers: Turning The Tables.**


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